


Hold Back the River

by seaavery1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, Dean Winchester Big Bang 2018, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, John Winchester's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaavery1/pseuds/seaavery1
Summary: Dean Winchester lost his mother in a tragic car accident at the age of nine. The accident caused his father, John, to slip further and further into a pit of depression and a bottle of booze, leaving Dean to try and pick up the pieces of their shattered family. As an adult, Dean left Lawrence behind to live life out on the road. He picks up odd jobs in restaurants and even briefly settles down. But ten years after leaving, John is diagnosed with cancer and told he only has a short time to live. Can Dean forgive his father and come to terms with the past? Or is the damage that was done just too much to overcome?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the Dean Winchester Big Bang. Huge thanks to my amazing beta, FortLauderTales, for all her help, encouragement, and never-ending support. This work wouldn't be what it is without you. <3 Thank you to my amazing artist, be_my_precious, for capturing the images I had in my head so beautifully. <3
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this story. Writing for Dean Winchester is one of the most rewarding things to do. Thank you for taking the time to read it. <3
> 
> Link to master post for art: https://be-my-precious.livejournal.com/763611.html
> 
> I apologize for the title headers. Having a prologue and epilogue always makes them look a little off.

Prologue 

Dean Winchester was a good son. No one could deny that. After every fight his mom and dad had, he made sure she was okay. He would tell her not to worry, even though he had no idea what those words really meant at the time. He just hated to see his mother cry.

His mom, Mary, died when he was nine years old. They were on their way to Dairy Queen to get a soft serve, just the two of them. It had been their Friday night tradition since Dean could remember. They would each get a vanilla cone, sit out on the patio and catch up. He would tell her all about school. What he was learning and which subjects he loved and hated. She would listen attentively, never talking down to him. She called it their weekly wrap sessions and he cherished them.  

Then on Friday, November 18th, 1988, a drunk driver ran a red light two blocks from Dairy Queen and smashed into the driver’s side door of his father’s beloved Impala. The impact killed his mother instantly, but somehow Dean made it out alive with just a few scratches and the image of his mother’s open eyes, blood dripping down her forehead, seared into his memory. The driver died two days later, not once seeing the suffering his mistake had caused.

Dean didn’t speak for two months after his mother died. John tried everything to get his son to speak to him, but nothing seemed to work. Then his dad got it in his head that fixing the car would somehow help. He took the Impala to his old marine buddy’s garage. Bobby told him it might not be a good idea, asking what good it would do to dredge up all those bad memories. But John insisted, so Bobby grudgingly acquiesced, and John threw everything into rebuilding that car, making sure that Dean was with him every step of the way.

Dean hated it at first. Every time he looked at that car he saw his mother lying there, dead. The image of her taking her last breath, her eyes just staring at him blankly haunted him. But as the days passed, somehow working on that car made things better. John showed him the inner workings of the car, teaching him where everything went, showing him how to rebuild something when it was broken. One week into his time at the garage, Dean uttered his first word since watching his mother die. John nearly cried and Bobby gave him a big hug.

He cherished that time he spent rebuilding the car. Cherished the time with his dad, learning, and healing. But it was short lived. The collapse of Dean’s life had only begun.

Grief is a funny thing. It can hit you in waves, some bigger than others and one of the bigger ones came crashing down on his dad six months after his Mary died. His dad received a delivery one day. Just something that seemed innocuous at the time, yet it was anything but. Sometime before her death, Mary had ordered a brand new Laz-y-Boy recliner as a surprise for John’s birthday. Dean watched him from the corner of the room as the chair was set into the middle of the living room. It was almost ugly, but there was a power to that chair that he still couldn’t understand.

John circled it like he was trying to decide the best way to tackle it. He ran his hands down the material, committing every bit of leather to memory, and then his dad sat down in that chair and it was like something broke inside him. Something he had been trying to keep together for his boys. For the world. He watched as his father cried and cried until he passed out.

Things went downhill after that. Little by little their dad started drifting away from them. It started out with laundry. John had never been one to shy away from household chores. When his mom had been alive, laundry had been his task. But two weeks after that chair arrived the laundry sat stacked on the laundry room floor, the dirty shirts and underwear overflowing. Dean and Sam had been forced to wear dirty clothes to school. But then one day Sam came home crying after some kid teased him for wearing stinky clothes and Dean decided to teach himself how to do the laundry. They never went without clean clothes again.

Next was food. His dad had never really been much of a cook, the truth was his mom hadn’t been either, a fact that he wouldn’t learn till much later in life, but they both always made sure to have a hot meal on the table for the boys. Those hot meals became frozen dinners and boxes of stale cereal. There would be days when they would go without lunch and end up sharing food with some of their friends at school. So Dean learned to cook. It started with macaroni and cheese with all the exotic variations he could come up with. Despite how disgusting some of them were, Sam delighted at each one. He even requested macaroni and marshmallow fluff for his eighth birthday. Eventually, he became a pretty skilled cook for his young age and two years after his mom died, Dean helped Bobby prepare Thanksgiving dinner.

Then the money problems came. It started when his dad lost his job. He had been coming into work late every day, sometimes just missing work altogether. Then one day he showed up to work drunk as a skunk and they fired him. Instead of getting another job, John decided to dip into their savings. They had received about five thousand dollars after Mary had died from a small life insurance policy she had. The plan had been to save it for the boys. That was what Mary would’ve wanted. But John insisted that he was just going to borrow it to pay for bills and such, promising that he would pay it back as soon as he got another job. Instead, most of it ended up going into his growing alcohol habit and his new pastime of gambling. Pretty soon the money dried up and John fell further into a bottle of whiskey.  

Dean started picking up odd jobs here and there to try and contribute something to the household, but it was never that much. Just enough to pay for the most basic of Sam’s school supplies. Bobby helped with the rest, even taking out a second mortgage on his house when the bank threatened to take away the Winchesters’. Dean knew he would never be able to pay Bobby back for everything he did for them, but he would never stop trying.

The last thing to go was his dad’s affections. The more he drank, the more he seemed to resent them. He looked at his boys as being constant reminders of the wife he lost; especially Dean. He knew his dad blamed him for his mother’s demise. Dean tried not to let him get into his head too much, but he found himself crying himself to sleep more times than he would like to admit. After all, she was on that road that night to take him out for soft serve.

When his dad got really drunk, he would yell at him, telling him he was a waste of space and that he would amount to nothing. He was only slightly kinder to Sam, saving whatever affection he had left for his boys for him. Dean was okay with that. He tried his hardest to make sure Sam never got the full brunt of his father’s rage. He succeeded at times and failed at others.

Living in that house was like being on a roller coaster and Dean could always tell how bad the day would be by the number of empty liquor bottles on the counter. He swore to himself that he would never drink like his father did, and for the most part, he kept that promise. Sure, he had his drunken times and he hated to admit how much he favored whiskey, but he kept it under control.

A damn chair and a stupid craving for soft serve had shaped Dean’s whole life. He never once sat in that Laz-Y-Boy chair and he would cringe anytime he saw one like it.

***

Dean Winchester was a good brother. Sam could attest to that. He made sure his younger brother knew about their mother. His dad was never going to do it, so it was up to him. Dean would play her favorite albums for Sam and describe in great detail the cadence of her voice. He made sure that Sammy heard _Hey Jude_ every night before he went to bed. Sure, it couldn’t compare to being able to hear his mother sing it, but he had to let him continue to experience the act of falling asleep to the soothing notes of that song. Besides, it was the least he could do for a son who had few tangible memories of the mother who adored him.

Sam was smart. Too smart for their small town of Lawrence, that’s what everyone always said, and Dean was determined to make sure that his little brother got out of there. He bought a blue piggy bank and started depositing money for Sam’s college fund when he was twelve. When he was fourteen, he took the contents to a local bank and opened a savings account with Bobby’s help. He had saved up five hundred dollars. Bobby nearly cried when he saw that and ripped into John when they returned from the bank.

At the age of sixteen, Dean dropped out of school. His dad had lost his sixth job in six years and he needed to help pay the bills. Dean wouldn’t admit that his dad encouraged him to drop out, but the little guilt over his craving for ice cream sure was an incentive. He got a job as a short-order cook at the local diner his mom’s best friend, Ellen Harvelle, owned and in his spare time, he would work at Bobby’s garage. Bobby hated the fact that he dropped out of school. He tried to convince him to go back, telling him that they would find another way to pay for everything. He even offered to take him and Sam in, something he offered at least once a year, but Dean refused and Bobby eventually gave up. Dean put half the money in that savings account and the other half into the bills, and every once in a while a few dollars would make their way into a little jar he kept in his closet.  

Sam was valedictorian of his class and he was awarded a partial scholarship to Stanford. Dean had managed to save up close to five thousand dollars. It may not have been enough to cover everything, but it would get his brother out of there. Sam cried when he presented him with the check and John told him that that money should have gone to the family. Dean figured getting one of the Winchester boys out of Lawrence was doing just that.

Dean got his GED the year Sam left. He had been studying in secret. He couldn’t quite explain why he wanted to get it. He had never really liked high school. He always felt like a bit of an outsider. Sure, he had friends and girlfriends, but he never really fit into one group and there were quite a few people who thought he was stupid. They would say, “All the brains went to the younger Winchester boy.” But Dean was actually very smart. He devoured books, mostly in private, and he loved science and English, but he never wanted to outshine his brother, and so he would hide most of that.

Dean scored two hundred on his GED, the highest score you could get. He celebrated by baking himself an apple pie and making a bacon cheeseburger. But he didn’t tell his dad. Didn’t tell his brother. Didn’t even tell Bobby. The GED sat inside a special box Dean carried with him. A memory box, if you will. A picture of his mom and him adorned the cover.

Dean stayed in Lawrence for two years after Sam left. He helped take care of the house, his father losing two more jobs. But then one day his dad made a pass at his girlfriend Anna and that was the tipping point. Dean left in the middle of the night, a thousand dollars in his pocket. He took Baby with him. His dad never drove the car anyway. Anna decided to stay behind and he tried not to let the hurt of that take over. He spread a map out on his bed, closed his eyes and let his index finger decide where he would live. Phoenix, Arizona was his first destination. He smiled as he climbed behind the wheel and left Lawrence in the rearview.

He bounced around from town to town, never staying too long in one place, never getting attached. Two years after he left Kansas, that index finger landed on Cape Girardeau, Missouri. That’s where he met Cassie Robinson, the woman who changed his whole life. He fell hard and fast for her. She was an investigative journalist and the first black female reporter to work at the local paper. She was funny, sexy, smart as hell and the first person he told about the GED. Part of that came from wanting to prove to himself that she wasn’t miles out of his league, but he also wanted to tell someone whom he loved, and God did he love her. She never once judged him. She even put the thing in a frame.

Six months after they met, Dean proposed and they got married three months later in Reno, the same place his parents had tied the knot. Yeah, it was quick, but they were in love and everything seemed possible. Sam was his best man and he brought his fiancé Eileen Leahey, whom he’d met at Stanford. Eileen was studying medicine and hoped to be a pediatrician. A doctor and an attorney; couldn’t get more normal than that.

He didn’t want to invite his father, but Cassie told him he would regret it. She thought it would be best to do the invite in person, so, against his better judgment, they drove out to Lawrence. The house was in shambles, the lawn in serious need of a mow and the paint peeling. Every dish in the house was in the sink and his dad looked like he hadn’t showered in days. He had never felt so ashamed in his life.

Cassie was amazing. She held his hand the whole time and she bragged to his dad about his job as head chef at a local steakhouse. Her whole face would light up when she talked about him and it was the first time since his mother that he knew what love really looked like. His father wasn’t as impressed. He told him cooking wasn’t a real job and that he should try and make something of himself like his brother Sam. Cassie wanted to stick up for him, to argue with his father, but Dean convinced her it wasn’t worth it.

But the worst part of the visit was when Dean told his dad they were getting married in Reno. He saw the grief flicker in his eyes and he could see the tears threatening to fall. He quickly turned that grief into anger and lashed out at Dean for getting married there. Telling him he was sullying his mother’s memory.

Dean and Cassie left after that and Cassie apologized profusely to him for making him go out there. He told her it wasn’t her fault, that she could never have known how bad it was. She swore to him that she would never make him go back there again.

Their wedding ended up being a rocking good time. Cassie was a beautiful bride. The most beautiful bride he had ever seen. They wrote their own vows and had a perfect wedding. He thought that was it. His life was finally turning into something more than grief.

***

Dean Winchester was a good husband. He really was. He never cheated. Never raised his voice, even when he and Cassie would get into fights, and he didn’t get drunk every night like his father. But he shut her out sometimes and he knew it. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to show his emotions, it was just that he still worried that she would see some of the stuff he kept inside and run. By trying to protect her, he ended up losing her. She told him she wanted a divorce five years later. She said she needed to do it before they got to the point where they no longer liked each other. His heart shattered when she took that wedding ring off.

In the end, she had been right. Their divorce actually went pretty smoothly and they somehow remained friends. Best friends really. He still loved her with every fiber of his being, but he learned to be content with only her friendship.

He pulled his map back out when the divorce was final and went back out on the road. He couldn’t bear to live that near to the perfect life he had let fall apart.

Ten years after Dean left Lawrence, John was diagnosed with liver cancer and told that the only chance he had for survival was a liver transplant. His dad was put on a donor list and it was even suggested that he see if his sons could donate, but in some act of fatherly kindness that Dean didn’t fully understand, he refused to let them. So he sat on that donor list while his health deteriorated.

Sam paid for his in-home nursing care and for someone to clean the house once a week. Dean felt a sense of shame at this, but Sam told him it was his turn to take care of the finances, take care of their dad. He was a promising young attorney after all and he was married to a promising young doctor.

Bobby called Dean six months after the diagnosis and told him that he should get to Lawrence as soon as he could. He knew what those words meant and if it didn’t hurt so bad, Dean would laugh at the irony of alcohol killing both his parents. There was a part of him that wanted to refuse. He hadn’t talked to his father in nearly five years and the thought of seeing him again made his stomach queasy. But he was a good son and he knew he would go.

He called Sam to let him know that their father would be dead soon, but Sam refused to go out there. He said that he had already made his peace with their dad. Dean wanted to beg his brother to come just to hold his hand, just to make sure he didn’t fall into a bottle of whiskey after their dad was gone. But he just told Sam he understood and that he would call him when John was gone.

Dean climbed behind the wheel of Baby, leaving Taos, New Mexico, the latest place his finger had landed, behind and headed to Lawrence, Kansas. The place of his birth. The place of his mother’s death. And the place where he would lay his father to rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One 

Dean arrived in Lawrence a little before midnight. His back was aching from the drive and the heat of the Kansas summer had caused a fine sheen of sweat to break out on his brow.

He was parked across the street from his childhood home. There was a light blue sedan parked in front, a car he didn’t recognize, and he wondered if it belonged to whoever was charged with taking care of his dad. The lawn appeared to be in slightly better shape than the last time he had been here and there was even a potted plant on the stoop. But the paint was still chipping, the siding was a mess, and he suspected it needed a new roof.  

He sat there, just staring out the window, not sure if he should walk up to the front door or not. He hadn’t been home since he visited with Cassie and the thought of seeing his father caused a dread to bubble up inside. He glanced at his watch; a quarter to twelve. It was too late for him to knock on the door anyway. Someone with cancer needed all the rest they could get, he supposed.

He tapped his fingers absently on the steering wheel and glanced up at the window that used to be his. There was a light on in the room and he leaned forward slightly, trying to see who could possibly be in his room. He didn’t think his dad would’ve moved in there, he hardly visited it when he lived there, the chances of him going in after he was gone seemed minuscule at best.

He saw a figure move in front of the window. He could barely make out the shape, but it appeared to be female. He swallowed and guessed it must have been the nurse.

A couple more minutes passed, the figure moving around the room. He tracked her movements, wondering what she thought of his room. Wondering if everything he had left behind was still there. He watched for a few more minutes until the light when off, plunging the room into darkness. He sighed, turning his face away from the house, and turned the key in the ignition.

He got a room at the local Days Inn, one of the cheaper places in town, but not cheap enough to be disgusting. He collapsed on the bed as soon as he entered the room, the exhaustion from the drive and the stress he felt as every mile brought him closer to home taking over. Within minutes he was sound asleep.

He woke up six hours later, still in his clothes and lying on top of the old comforter. He rubbed his eyes and tried to reacquaint himself with the reality of where he was. He blinked, glanced around the room, and his brain started to wake up and come back to reality. He was back home in Lawrence. Back home to watch his father die.

He checked his phone and saw two missed calls from Bobby. He sent a quick text letting him know he had gotten in late the previous night and he’d stop by later that morning. He jumped into the shower, washing away the grime from the long drive and pulled on a pair of old blue jeans and a green plaid shirt. He made it downstairs just in time for the continental breakfast and downed three cups of coffee, mushy eggs, limp bacon and a frozen waffle.

Dean told himself to drive to his dad’s. Say his hello, let him know he was there, maybe give the nurse some time away, but instead he drove straight to Singer’s Auto. Bobby pulled him into a huge bear hug when he saw him. “It’s good to see ya boy.” He patted him on the shoulder and then frowned slightly. “Just wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You seen him yet?”

Dean placed his hands in his pockets and glanced away, his mind trying to focus on an old VW in the yard. “Nope. Got in too late last night.”

“You nervous?” Dean looked down at the ground before looking back at him. There was a knowing look in Bobby’s eyes and he had to quickly look away again.

“Nope.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and kept ignoring Bobby, not wanting to see the look in his eyes that would be calling him on his lie.

“Dean, there’s something you should know.” Dean took in a deep breath and faced Bobby, dreading whatever he was about to hear. “He’s changed.” It was the last thing he expected to hear and Dean couldn’t help but scoff at those words. “I mean it. He’s... softer, somehow. Dying will do that to ya.”

He crossed his arms in defiance. “Well, I mean at least the lawn looked mowed.”

Bobby furrowed his brow. “How do you know that?”

He swallowed, rocking back on his heels. “I drove by.” He could tell Bobby wanted to push it. Ask why he didn’t just stop in. So, he decided to quickly change the subject. “What’s his nurse like?”

Bobby considered him for a minute before answering. “Tina? She’s great. Keeps him in line and doesn’t put up with any of his bull.”

“Yeah. Guess he needs someone to do that.” Dean looked away, his eyes scouring the shop. “How’s business?”

“Can’t complain.”

Dean smiled to himself. “You know sometimes I really miss it.”

“Well, if you’re thinking of getting your hands dirty, you better hurry up.” Dean looked back at him, his brow furrowed. “I’m actually selling.”

The words stung a bit and he felt his voice crack when he spoke. “What?”

Bobby shrugged and glanced around the place. “Not getting any younger.”

“Bobby, if this has to do with me--”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No. Trust me, I got some good mechanics here after you left. It’s just time.”

Dean looked around the yard at all the vehicles, the ones in the bay getting ready for repair, the ones in the junkyard that Bobby would use for spare parts. It may have looked dirty and run down to some, but to Dean, it was like home. Maybe even more so than his real one. The thought of losing it was like a punch to the gut.

Bobby patted Dean on the shoulder. “Why don’t we go up to the house and I can fix ya something to eat?”

“Yeah, okay.” He followed Bobby towards his house, glancing back at the yard every few steps, realizing it was just another thing he had to say goodbye to.

Bobby made them some ham sandwiches with potato chips and two cold sodas. They talked about Dean’s travels, the many cities he had lived in, and he told Bobby all about his split from Cassie. Bobby had always liked her and, unlike his dad, had welcomed her with open arms on their first meeting.

It was nice to catch up, to be near the man who had been more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood. He spent two hours there before deciding to finally bite the bullet and go see his father. He helped Bobby clean up and told him he’d call him later.

Twenty minutes later he was parked across from his childhood home again, trying to work up the courage to knock on that front door.

***

Dean stood on the doorstep, his hand hovering above the door. He tried to remember Bobby’s words. Tried to believe that they might be true. “Come on, Winchester, you can do this.” He took a deep breath, steadied himself, pasted on the most confident smile he could, and knocked.

The door opened a minute later and Dean took a tiny step back. A woman about three inches shorter than him, with long dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and an unassuming smile stared back at him. She was beautiful and not at all what he was expecting, although, he wasn’t quite sure who he thought he would see. “Can I help you?”

He grinned slightly, still just staring at her and he saw her blush slightly before she raised her eyebrows at him questioningly. He felt a little embarrassed by the nerves that had suddenly decided to present themselves and he quickly shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the present moment. Back to the reality of what was going on. “Sorry, is John here?”

Her face took on an almost protective look and she looked him up and down before asking, “Can I tell him who's here?”

“Dean. His son.”

Her eyes widened and she actually looked a little embarrassed. “Shit.” Dean smiled and chuckled softly. “I mean… I’m sorry. I’ve seen your picture a hundred times before.” She wiped her hand on her jeans and smiled. “I’m Tina. Your dad’s nurse.” She held out her hand.

He looked down at her hand for just a second, before shaking it. “Hi.”

They stood on the doorstep for a couple of seconds before Tina shook her head, looked down, her face turning bright red. “Sorry, you must wanna come inside.” She stepped aside and ushered him in. He walked in and stopped a couple inches in front of the door, his nerves starting to creep up again. Tina closed the door behind him. “You must think I’m a total idiot. I swear I’m usually not such a spaz.”

He grinned and held back another chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Your dad’s upstairs watching a movie. If you want to...” She motioned toward the stairs.

Hearing those words brought him back to reality and to the situation in front of him. His smile faltered and the lighthearted feeling he had instantly vanished. “I think I’ll just take a moment.” She nodded and gave him a look that seemed to indicate she understood why and he wondered how much his dad had told her.

“I’ll just go let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and headed up the stairs.

Dean walked into the living room and looked around. It was considerably cleaner than the last time he had seen it, but the furniture was all falling apart and the walls hadn’t been painted since he had put his index finger on that map the first time.

He walked around the room, stopping in front of the bookcase. Pictures of his mom, Sam, his dad and himself, were placed on the shelves. He ran his hand along several of them, pulling off one of his mom and him outside. She was sitting behind him, her arms around him, protecting him from all harm. He felt the tears prickling the back of his eyes and he set the picture down.

He was shocked when he saw a picture of Sam and Eileen and even more shocked that it was taken here, in the house. He couldn’t recall Sam ever telling him about coming out here. He took the picture off the shelf and studied it for a second. Sam actually looked happy. Probably just because Eileen was there with him, but there was something else there. Something close to peace. It made him uneasy. Like he had missed something. Slept through some big event.

He placed the picture back on the shelf and turned back around, his eyes landing on the chair. He felt his chest tighten and his stomach twist into knots. It still amazed him how much power one piece of furniture held.

He was staring at it when he heard Tina clear her throat. He looked over at her and she gave him an apologetic smile like she felt guilty about interrupting his staring time. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks.” He gestured around the room. “It’s a lot cleaner than the last time I saw it.”

“There’s a cleaning company that comes once a week and I try to keep it as tidy as possible.” She absently fluffed a pillow on the couch and he saw her frown when little bits of dust flew up into the air. It made him sad.

“Thanks.”

She nodded and he could see she was a little nervous and he wondered how in the world she kept his father in line. She gestured behind her. “He talks about you a lot. You and your brother.”

He muttered, “I bet.” And he saw her frown slightly. He crossed his arms. “So, you’re staying here?”

“Yeah, I’m a live-in nurse. I guess your dad tried the split-shift thing, but the nurses didn’t really like him, so they called on me. I kind of get the difficult cases.” She grimaced and he could tell she felt a little guilty saying that.

He chuckled. “Yeah, difficult could be my dad’s middle name.”

She smiled softly at him. “Well, I better start making dinner.”

“You make him dinner?” The thought of it made his stomach turn and he felt some anger start to bubble up inside.

“Yeah. Of course.” She shrugged and that made him even angrier. “Why?”

He knew he should drop it before he revealed more than he probably should to his dad’s nurse. “Nothing. I guess I better go say my hellos.” She nodded at him and headed to the kitchen. He turned his body toward the stairs and willed himself to make that climb.

When he got to the top of the stairs he heard the soft sounds of coughing coming from his dad’s bedroom and he instantly wanted to run. He wanted to tell Tina he couldn’t do this. Tell her to tell his dad he said goodbye. But he steadied his breathing, stood tall, and made his way toward his father’s room.

When he peeked his head around the corner he was shocked by what he saw in front of him. His dad seemed small, and like he was getting smaller by the moment. His face was gaunt and his skin had a yellow tint to it, almost like he was rotting away. The huge bed appeared to be swallowing him whole and Dean had a hard time seeing how he was even still breathing.

The bedside table was littered with pill bottles, plastic cups of water, discarded tissues and a baby monitor. He suspected the other half of the monitor was in Dean’s old room.

His dad was staring at the television in front of him, an old black and white film on the screen. He thought he recognized it, but couldn’t place it. He hadn’t noticed Dean standing there yet, and he wondered if maybe he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, or worse yet he had just passed away before he had even gotten the chance to see him. But he saw his shallow breath rise and fall, his eyes blinking.

Dean cleared his throat, knocking on the door. His dad looked up at him and his eyes seemed to brighten some, maybe even twinkle, but Dean chalked it up to the lights from the TV reflecting in them. “Hello, Dean.” His voice was just above a whisper, nothing like the rough timber it used to have.

He gave him a tight smile. “Hey, Dad.”

His dad waved him over, and Dean took a few hesitant steps in. He motioned toward the TV. “Animal Crackers.”

“Excuse me?”

“The movie, Animal Crackers.” Dean swallowed, remembering now. “Your mom loved this one.”

“Yeah. I remember.” Dean focused on the T.V., his memory flashing on his mom’s full body laughter. Her smile lighting up the whole room. He quickly looked away from the T.V., focusing on his dad.

“She used to play it every Christmas. I wanted to watch It’s a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story, but she always insisted on the Marx Brothers.” His dad’s smile was soft, almost warm, almost like the man he knew before his mom died. He laughed at something on the TV and looked back at Dean. “You look good. Tired, but good.”

Dean tried to ignore the tired part as he leaned against the closet door, crossing his arms. “How are you?”

“Drugged. Tired. Peaceful.” That last one didn’t make a lick of sense to him. “How long are you in town for?”

“For as long as…” He looked down, not wanting to finish that sentence. He took a deep breath and looked back up. “For a while.”

“What town are you coming from this time?” Despite how fragile his dad seemed, there was still a bite to the question and it made Dean’s stomach tighten and his fists clench slightly at his side.

Dean unclenched his fists, trying to relax his body and will away the anger. “Taos.”

“New Mexico, huh?” Dean looked at him and nodded. “It always smells so fresh there.”

“Crisp is the word I use.”

“That’s a good one.”

Dean shifted from foot to foot, not sure what he was supposed to say. His dad seemed calm. Like this was a normal day and they were just catching up. It made him uneasy. “So, you need me to do anything or-”

“Nah, Tina has it covered.” He gave him a half-smile. “You won’t need to wipe my ass or anything.”

He grimaced, suddenly feeling great empathy for Tina. “Thanks for the visual.”

John laughed, a little louder than the chuckle before, and the rich timbre of it echoed off the walls. “I’m just jokin’. We haven’t gotten to the wiping my ass stage yet.” He looked back at the T.V., his laugh fading. “I really love this movie.”

Dean watched his dad for a moment. He seemed so much less intimidating than he did when he was a boy. He just seemed like John Winchester, the man who showed Dean how to put the pieces of a shattered car back together again.

After several minutes, Tina knocked on the door. His dad looked up at her, a smile spreading across his face. He gestured toward the screen. “Have you ever seen this?”

She walked over to his bed, glancing at Dean briefly, before going to the bedside table and picking up several pill bottles. “Yep. You’ve shown it to me like a hundred times.”

John scoffed, crossing his arms. “Excuse me for trying to bring culture into your life.”

“Culture.” She chuckled, dumping a couple of pills into her hand. “It’s the Marx Brothers, not the Guggenheim Museum.” John rolled his eyes and Dean grinned. This was a different Tina than the one he had met downstairs. “Time for your pills.”

“My son just got here.”

“Doesn’t mean that pill time stops.” His dad huffed, but instantly took them. “Good boy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His dad glanced over at Dean. “Are you gonna stay for dinner?” There was so much hope in that question that Dean wanted to check if he was dreaming.

“I made enough for an army, and this one barely finishes off a plate.” She gestured toward his dad and John softly chuckled.

“Um… sure. I guess.” He saw his dad smile at him and he quickly excused himself, saying he needed to freshen up.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and walked over to the sink. He splashed his face with water and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He did look tired, even a little sad. He dried his face off and headed out.

He walked down the hallway, poking his head into Sam’s room first. It looked remarkably like it did the day Sam left. Books filled the tiny bookshelf in the corner, the ones Sam had already read several times over, and Dean had read as well after Sam left for school. The bed was neatly made with the same dark blue comforter, the edges slightly frayed. Radiohead and Nirvana posters decorated the walls.

He walked a little way down the hall to his room. He peeked inside and was taken aback at how different it seemed, almost smaller. His bed was still there, but the red comforter was gone, replaced by a dark green one. His vinyl records had come with him, as did most of his decorations. The old _Slaughterhouse Five_ movie poster that hung over his bed, the last remnant of his time in this room. The corners of it had yellowed slightly, almost like the color of his dad’s skin. He closed his eyes, turning away from it.

His old wooden dresser stood in the corner of the room, a few bottles of lotion and perfume that he guessed belonged to Tina were placed on top of it. In the corner was a black suitcase, the lid open, and when he opened the closet he saw several shirts, nice dress slacks, and a skirt, hanging up.

“This was your room, wasn’t it?” He nearly jumped when he heard her behind him. He slowly turned.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling a little guilty. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything.”

“Hey, it’s your room.” He gave her a quick smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Must be weird, huh? Some stranger staying in here.”

He shrugged. “It hasn’t really been my room in years.

“Sam was out here when I started and he was-”

“Sam was here?” Those words surprised him.

“Yeah. Just for a while.”

“Was Eileen with him?”

“Yeah.” He looked toward the window and tried to understand why he didn’t know that. His brother did say he had made his peace with their dad. That must have been when he did it. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head and turned back to her. “Yeah, fine.”

“I can switch rooms and sleep in Sam’s.”

He waved her off. “Really, it’s okay. Not staying here anyway.”

She looked genuinely confused by that. “Really?”

“Yeah, I got a motel room in town, so.” He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling a little defensive.

“A motel?” That confusion seemed to be growing and he just wanted this conversation to end before she tried to convince him to stay. For some reason, he thought she just might be able to do it.

“Yeah.” He clasped his hands together. “So, do you need any help with dinner?”

She looked at him for a moment before answering. “Nope. Got it covered. But you could set the table.”

“I can do that.” Dean hurried past her, quickly making his way downstairs.

Dean set the table for three and helped Tina bring his dad downstairs. He clung to both of them and Dean could feel how small his dad had truly gotten. Even smaller than he had looked in that bed.

Dinner was strangely normal, as if they had always done this. His dad made jokes, Tina laughing harder at each one, and he asked Dean question after question, asking about all the different states he’d lived in and the different restaurants he’d worked at. If he didn’t know better, he would think his dad was actually interested in his life.

“Do you talk to your brother much?”

“Yeah. At least a couple times a week.” _Although he neglected to mention the time he came out here._

His dad looked off in the distance, a look of pride on his face. “He’s really somethin’. And that wife of his, she’s incredible.” He pointed his fork at Tina. “I mean overcoming such a huge handicap to become a doctor and-”

“Why would being deaf hinder her being a doctor, Dad?” He couldn’t help but glare at his dad a little.

John looked at Dean, frowning. “That’s not what I said.”

Dean scoffed and took a bite of chicken. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Son, if you have something you want to say to me, just-”

“No. I’m fine.” He swallowed the bite of food in his mouth.

His dad regarded him for a second, before turning back to Tina. “Anyway, I’m sure she’ll have her own practice someday and Sam is gonna be a successful attorney. So proud of them.”

Dean pursed his lips and tried not to take those words as a slight. His dad should be proud. They all should, but he couldn’t help feeling small against those words. Tina glanced at him. “What about you, Dean?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, ever think of opening up your own restaurant or something?”

His dad chuckled softly and it was like getting a bucket of cold water dumped on him. He shook it off and returned his attention to Tina. “I don’t know. I kind of like just focusing on the cooking. Running it might mean I’d have to cut back on that.”

“Plus, he’d have to settle down in one place for longer than a few months.” His dad gave him a smile. “Ain’t that right, Dean?”

“I stayed in Missouri for years, Dad. You know, with Cassie. You remember Cassie, right?” They stared at each other, that old tension back and he wanted to laugh at thinking earlier that his dad actually cared about him. “Although I guess you were kind of right about that. She did eventually leave my sorry ass.” He kept a scowl on his face, not wanting to give his dad the satisfaction of a frown.

He saw that flash of anger that was so familiar to him, cross his dad’s face. “Dean-”

Tina cleared her throat. “How about dessert? I bought some brownies.”

Dean and his dad stared at each other for a few more moments before his dad looked away, the anger leaving his face and a sadness replacing it. Dean glanced away. “I think I’ll retire.” Tina looked like she might push it a little further, but then she quickly nodded and took his arm to help him up. He gently shook her off. “I can do it.” He saw Tina scowl at him, but she relented. They watched as his dad slowly made his way up the stairs.

“Your dad’s so stubborn.”

“My dad’s an ass.” Tina frowned and watched as he finished his glass of water and stood from the table. “Thanks for dinner.” Dean placed his plate in the sink and started to clean up.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

He turned back toward her. She looked up at him, a warm smile on her face. “What?”

“I need some fresh air.” She stood up, her plate and his dad’s in hand. “Thought you might wanna join me?” He watched as she set the plates down in the sink. “You look like you could use a change of scenery.”

He leaned forward a bit, almost whispering like he was afraid his dad might hear them. “Is it really a good idea to just leave him?”

“I may be twenty-four-hour care, but I am allowed to leave. Besides, your dad just has to press a button and help will be on the way.”

He felt a little pain in his chest at that thought but quickly pushed it away. Truth was, getting out of there sounded like an excellent plan. “Okay. Sure.”

She smiled. “Great. I’ll just go check on your dad and we’ll get out of here.” He nodded and watched as she walked out of the room.

***

Dean suggested that they go to a local bar in town, Lafitte’s. It was owned by an old buddy of his, Benny Lafitte. Benny and his family moved to Lawrence when Dean was twelve, and they quickly became friends. He was one of the few people in Lawrence who saw him as being more than John’s oldest son and Sam’s big brother.

Tina did seem to be a little concerned about going to a bar, probably thought he was like his dad. But she agreed to it, saying she could use a beer.

The bar was rustic. Classic rock playing on an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner, and stale peanuts in bowls at the bar. It may not have been the fanciest place around, but it was a judgment-free zone. It was also one of the few places where his dad was not allowed to drink. It was an unspoken rule that Benny had and everyone who worked there knew it. You see John Winchester come in and you make sure the only thing you give him is soda, minus the booze. It was one of the kindest gestures anyone outside of Ellen and Bobby had ever bestowed upon him and his family.

The bar was fairly busy for a Wednesday night. There were several couples occupying a few of the tables and two older gentlemen were playing pool in the back. An old _Traffic_ song was playing on the jukebox. For the first time since returning to Lawrence, he felt relaxed, like he was at home.

They walked up to the bar and a guy around Dean’s age approached them. His eyes were a little tired, but his smile was genuine. “What can I getcha two?”

They were about to order when Dean felt a slap on his back and heard that thick Louisiana drawl behind him. “Dean Winchester.” He smiled and turned to face Benny, his face in a wide grin.

“Hey, Benny.”

“Man, it’s good to see you.” He pulled Dean into a big hug.

Dean hugged him back, grateful to see his old buddy. “You too.”

Benny shook his head, as he looked at him. “It’s been way too damn long.”

“Yeah, it has.” Dean gave him a quick smile, that turned into a frown.

Benny’s face turned a little somber. “Sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Thanks.” He looked around the bar, trying to find a way out of the topic at hand. “Business seems to be good.”

“Can’t complain.” He glanced over at Tina, who was hanging back by the bar, not wanting to intrude on the moment. “Hi, I’m Benny,” he said as he held out his hand.

“Sorry. This is Tina, she’s helping my Dad.”

Tina shook Benny’s hand and he gave a nod to Dean. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Dean saw a slight blush on Tina’s cheeks. It was inevitable whenever Benny would put on that thick Louisiana drawl. Dean tried to ignore the tiny pang of jealousy he felt at that. “You too.”

He gave her another smile, before turning back to Dean. “Anything you two want is on the house, okay. Just tell Chris there to send the bill my way.”

“Thanks, man.”

He placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll have to get together sometime for lunch. Catch up.”

“Sounds good.”

“Make sure to say goodbye before you leave tonight.” He gave Tina a nod and a smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” They returned their attention to the bar and ordered two beers. Dean really wanted to order a whiskey, but he thought better of it. Trying to keep a clear head right now might be the safest route. He noticed Tina glancing at him, that same question in her eyes.

They picked a table tucked away in the corner and sat down. Tina glanced around the bar, a smile tugging at her lips. “I like this place.”

He felt a little flutter of happiness that she was pleased with the place. Some people looked down on it. “Yeah, Benny has a way of making people feel welcome.”

“Old friend of yours?”

Dean nodded. “Since we were twelve.”

“That’s a long time.” She looked down at her beer, her fingers tugging at the label, and for the first time, he saw a sadness in her. “Must be nice to have that.”

He wanted to try and get her mind off of whatever it was that had caused that flicker of sadness. “Are you from Lawrence?”

She chuckled and smiled at him. “No. I’m kind of not really from anywhere.” He furrowed his brow and she continued. “My dad was kind of a, well, a drunk loser would be a nice way to put it.” She smiled, but there was a deep sadness and hurt in it and he felt bad about not choosing a better question.  “He moved us around a lot, depending on what job he’d lost and what bills he was trying to duck out on.”

“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to have a drunk father.”

She gave him a sad look of understanding and he had the sudden urge to ask her how much his dad had really told her. She held up her beer and that warm smile was instantly back again. “Well, here’s to crappy childhoods.”

He chuckled and clinked his beer glass to hers. “To crappy childhoods.”

They continued talking, exchanging stories about their lives and he was amazed at the similarities. Tina had traveled as a child, but other than that they kind of lived pretty similar lives. Like Dean, she had become her father’s caretaker and she supposed that was what led her to become a nurse, as cliché as she thought that sounded. She was also divorced. Well, thrice divorced. She had landed in Lawrence a little over a year ago after her third marriage failed. She had responded to a job ad, just needing to find something different, and a few months later she was living at his childhood home.

Dean liked her. Tina was nice, funny, smart, and pretty damn sexy, but he could tell that she was fond of his dad and that made him uneasy. As if sensing what he was thinking, she said, “Your dad’s proud of you, you know?”

He scoffed and took a sip of his beer. “Oh, I’m sure he is.”

She leaned forward a little, her eyes filled with so much honesty and hope that it had him instantly trying to look away from her. “I’m serious. His face lights up when he talks about you.”

Dean sighed, setting his beer down. “Look, I know that you are getting this deathbed version of my dad, this sober version, but trust me, he’s anything but proud of me.” He crossed his arms. He didn’t want to burst that hopeful bubble she had about John, but he also couldn’t stand to hear the lies that he had been apparently filling her head with. “That’s not my real dad. My real dad was the one that forgot to pick me and my brother up from school almost every day. The one that would stay out playing poker or God knows what, days in a row without even calling. The one that got so mad when I gave money to Sam for school that he ripped up one of my favorite posters.” He picked up his beer bottle. “That’s who my dad is,” he said before taking a long drink from his bottle.

Tina regarded him for a couple of minutes, her eyes seeming to try and decide the best words to say. “My dad died three years ago. He was alone in some cheap motel room with some woman he had picked up at the bar. He had a heart attack. I hadn’t seen him in nearly ten years.” She played with the napkin in front of her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “My dad was a real son-of-a-bitch. Nothing to be proud of. But you know what?” She looked back up at him, her eyes earnest and that hope was still there. “I would give anything to be able to go back in time and see him just one more time.”

“I’m sorry, Tina. But my dad-”

“Was an asshole. Is an asshole. I get it. I do. But you don’t want to wake up three years from now wishing you had gotten one more day.”

He looked down at the table. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Just give him a chance to talk to you.”

He looked back up at her and pursed his lips. “I’m here to say goodbye and that’s it.” He looked away from her and took a sip of beer, his chest tightening and that old familiar anger bubbling up. What the hell did she know? She wasn’t there for his childhood. She didn’t see the way his dad would look at him. She had no idea what he gave up because his dad got lost in his own grief. He would stay to see his dad take his final breath, then he’d burn that damn chair, and get the hell out of town for good.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two 

Dean continued to stay at the motel. He didn’t feel comfortable staying at the house, every corner of it shrouded in death, its smell unrecognizable as if the air was stale.

He went by every day and spent time watching movies with his dad. There was little said during those visits, with his dad making the occasional attempt at conversation. He would occasionally mute whatever movie they were watching and try to start up a conversation about something, but Dean would set his jaw and just tell him to save his voice.

Truth was, Dean was terrified of whatever his dad wanted to talk to him about. He figured John wanted to tell him about his end-of-life preparations. To go over what would happen to the house. To go over whether he would be buried in a coffin or if he would be cremated and buried like his mom had been. Dean just didn’t know if he could handle that right now, so he avoided conversation as much as possible, limiting his time to two-hour movies and an occasional dinner with Tina as a little bit of a buffer.

He spent the rest of his time in Lawrence avoiding his dad. He would hang out at Bobby’s, or stop by Benny’s for a beer and some conversation. He’d take long drives around his old haunts, the car blasting all the classic rock tunes he loved.

Tina would send him updates throughout the day. Letting him know if his dad seemed to be worse or better. If he had eaten more than just a measly breakfast. She even sent him pictures. It was something he didn’t ask for and wanted to tell her to stop doing, but there was this annoying little part of him that actually liked it, that actually looked forward to hearing that his dad had not died yet.

Dean made sure to update Sam on their dad’s progress. He wanted to ask Sam about his visit to Kansas, but decided not to. To his credit, Sam did ask him if he needed him to come out there. Dean wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell him that he couldn’t handle this on his own. That it was really shitty to leave it all on his shoulders. But all he got out was, “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. You’re paying for everything. You’ve done your part.”

Dean had been back home for a little over a week. It was longer than he had thought his dad would live. When Bobby had called him he had expected to arrive to a man mere seconds away from dying. Not that his dad was doing much better than that, but he still had most of his faculties and he was still breathing on his own. Dean was starting to wonder if his dad was really dying at all. Maybe this was all some elaborate trick to get him back home so he could take care of John, the house, everything, all over again.

He was sitting in an overstuffed chair in his dad’s room, playing with the stuffing that was coming out of the armrest. They had just finished watching _Unforgiven_ , and the credits were rolling, when his dad decided to try and talk to him again. “How do you like being back in Lawrence?”

Dean motioned to the TV. “Can we talk about this later? This is kinda my favorite part.”

John glanced at the screen and scoffed. “The credits are your favorite part?”

Dean crossed his arms tightly. “I like to know who the key grip is.”

His dad sighed. The deep sigh he used to have when he was disappointed in something Dean had done. It was usually breathing or getting on his case about his drinking. “Son, I know this isn’t easy for you.” Dean worried his bottom lip and continued to look at the TV. “But there are some things we need to talk about.” Dean continued to look straight ahead and felt the panic when the last of the credits rolled by. His dad let out an even louder sigh and groaned as he reached for the remote, turning the TV off.

Dean blinked twice and then glanced over at him. He expected to see aggravation on his dad’s face, maybe a little anger, but instead, he just saw sorrow. It pissed him off. “Dean, I’m really glad that you came home.” Dean crossed his arms even tighter, his fingers digging into his arms. “But you can’t keep avoiding me.”

He shrugged, annoyance creeping into his voice. “I’m sitting right here.”

John chuckled softly, but there wasn’t any humor behind it. “Yeah, but you’ve said maybe five whole sentences since you sat down.” Dean looked toward the door, hoping maybe Tina would come barging in saying it was time for John’s afternoon pills. But then he remembered that she had gone to the store. He knew she deserved a break from his dad, but man he wished he could have just gone to the store for her.

Dean swallowed and looked at his dad. “Fine. What do you wanna talk about?”

“What’s gonna happen when I die.”

Dean felt a little stutter in his chest, like his heart had forgotten how to work for a moment. He tried to ignore it. “I already know what happens when people die, Dad.”

His dad rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I mean.” He tried to sit up and groaned a little, his arms shaking. Without thinking, Dean jumped up and helped his dad sit up a little bit, propping a pillow up behind him. His dad smiled at him and he quickly moved away.

“What do you want to talk about then?” Dean sat back down.

His dad took a quick drink of water, some of the liquid splashing out. Dean wanted to quickly wipe it away, but he forced himself to remain seated this time. “I’ve named you the Executor of my Estate.”

Dean blinked and shook his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means when I die, you’re in charge of handling my estate. It isn’t much, but you will carry out the instructions in my will and-”

“Wait a minute, you want me to handle all the legal crap?” Dean felt his stomach starting to hurt in the same way it would when he was a child and he would see the bills piled up on the kitchen table.

“My friend’s son Chuck is an Estate Attorney, so he can help you, but-”

“Why not just get Sammy?”

“Because this isn’t his field.”

The hurt in his stomach was growing and spreading out. “And it’s mine?”

“Your brother has a lot on his plate and-”

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head. “And I don’t.”

“Dean, I just think that you will be better equipped to handle this.”

“Why? Because I took care of all the finances when I was a teenager?” He sat forward a bit, his heart rate speeding up and he could feel that pain in his stomach slowly turning to nausea. “Because I made sure the lights didn’t get shut off and that Sammy had a god damn clean shirt to wear?”

John frowned at him and he saw that old disappointment again. “I know your childhood was hard, but you’re an adult now.”

Dean muttered, “I’ve always been an adult.”

“Look, Chuck will help you with the language of the will, but it will be up to you to decide certain things and I want you to be prepared-”

Dean jumped up and ran from the room. He could hear the faint voice of his father calling to him and he heard the coughs. The stuttering breath. But he kept going. He ran down the stairs, flung the door open, and ran out into the yard.

It was all happening again. He was gonna be stuck here. Stuck with this house that was falling apart. Stuck with the ghost of a broken father and his shattered childhood. He never should’ve come back here.

He leaned over, his hands on his legs and his breath coming in shallow spurts. The nausea was there and worse, the tears were threatening to fall.

“Dean?” He looked up and saw Tina standing in front of him, bags of groceries in her arms. “Everything okay?” She looked genuinely worried and he knew if he stood there any longer he would crumble.

“I’m fine. Just got back from a run.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and took the bags from her. He gave her a quick smile and hurried back inside.

Dean started putting the groceries away, his hands moving like lightning. Tina walked into the kitchen, watching him for a minute. “Something happen?”

He shook his head. “Nope.” He kept his back to her as he put the rest of the groceries away and muttered under his breath, “Just made the stupid mistake of coming home.”

Tina leaned up against the counter and watched him for a minute, he could feel her eyes on him. Could tell she wanted to ask him more, but she didn’t push. She never did that. Instead, she started to tell him another story about her dad. “You know, when I was about fifteen, my dad got this job at a factory out in Tulsa.” Dean turned halfway toward her, she had a soft smile on her face, almost wistful. “He was so excited that he even put a deposit down on a little one-bedroom apartment. He even said I could have the bedroom.” She blinked, looking down at the floor. “Well, we got out there and the apartment was this filthy thing complete with roaches and the smell of stale cigarette smoke and burnt chicken.” She crossed her arms and looked up at him. “I tried so hard to turn that place into some kind of home for us. I made curtains from old clothes I had. I scrubbed the floors and bought some cheap, scented candle to try and make it smell better.”

She sighed and he saw that she was trying to fight back tears. “But he never even noticed and by the time I got it somewhat presentable, he had lost the job. He had shown up to work ten sheets to the wind and cussing out his boss. And the sad part was, I had gotten used to that damn apartment.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s when I realized that that image I have in my head of home, that dream that I have created, is just a fantasy.” She smiled at him. “Maybe you still have a tiny bit of that fantasy in your head.”

“Fantasy?” Dean pointed at his chest and leaned forward a little. “I never had a fantasy. I lived that nightmare from the day my mom died until the day I walked back through that door.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t and telling me some sob story about your broken childhood and how you’re filled with regrets for how you left things with your piece of shit Dad isn’t going to make me feel any better!” He didn’t mean to get angry. It wasn’t her fault. But he couldn’t help it.

She sighed and stood a little taller, not ready to back down. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m trying to let you know that you’re not alone.”

He wasn’t going to back down either. “Yeah, well maybe I like being alone.”

She looked at him for a moment, maybe searching for a break in the wall he had put up around himself. After a minute she gave up and let out her own disappointed sigh. “I guess I’ll leave you to your loneliness then.” She turned to leave and by her fifth step, something inside Dean decided that maybe there should be a break in that wall.

“He made me the executor of his estate.”

Tina stopped and slowly turned around. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” He shook his head. “Guess I’m back to cleaning up the old man’s messes.”

“Maybe he meant it as a compliment.”

He knitted his brow. “A compliment?”

“Yeah, like maybe he thought you would be the only one to really know how to take care of the house. Or handle things in a way that would pay him respect.” To him that didn’t seem like a compliment. It just seemed like more of that same old burden.

He ran a hand down his face and leaned up against the counter. “Why do you like him so much?”

She shrugged. “I guess I just see the man behind all the bullshit.”

“Yeah, well that man you think you see doesn’t exist.”

She sighed again and walked over to him, leaning up against the counter. “Dean, when your dad first showed me a picture of you, you know what he said?”

“No.”

“He said this is the heart of my family. My son Dean.” Dean licked his lips and looked down. “I know your dad has done some shitty stuff and has hurt you in ways I can’t even comprehend. But he does love you.”

“Yeah, well… I wish I could believe that.”

“I know.” She placed her hands on his arms and he looked up at her, staring into her warm eyes for maybe a little too long. He wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe in the honesty he saw there. She blinked and moved away from the counter. “I should really go check on the bastard.” She smiled and he couldn’t help but smile back. “You gonna be okay?” No, but he nodded just the same. She smiled and turned away from him.

“Tina.” She stopped and looked back at him. “Thanks.”

Her warms eyes looked at him for a moment before she said, “You’re welcome.” She smiled and walked away.

***

Dean had barely touched an oven since he got back home, either picking up takeout, eating at Bobby’s or eating whatever Tina had thrown together. So that night he decided to give Tina a break and whip them up a dinner of spaghetti with homemade meatballs, Caesar salad, and tiramisu for dessert. Truth was, he really missed cooking. He missed the way it made him feel when a recipe would come together, his senses working in harmony to make something beautiful. Something that could provide comfort for others.

He found himself relaxing for the first time in a while as he stirred the sauces, made the meatballs, cut up the bread, and mixed together the desert. He even forgot how angry and hurt he had been earlier.

When everything was ready, he set the table and called them down to dinner. Tina’s eyes were wide as saucers when she brought his dad down for dinner. She looked around at all the food before them and she let out a contented sigh. Dean couldn’t help the slight blush that crept up his neck.

John sat down, sniffed the air, and Dean prepared himself for whatever was about to come. “It smells delicious, Son.” Dean let out a sigh of relief and hurried about preparing their plates.

The dinner conversation wasn’t nearly as tense as he had expected. His dad didn’t bring up the executor thing again and they just chatted about mundane things, the weather, Bobby selling his shop, how Benny was thinking of expanding the menu at his bar. Just normal chit-chat. For the second time that night Dean forgot what it was that he was supposed to be so angry about.

His dad started coughing and showing signs of exhaustion before the desert had been plated. Dean told Tina to relax and eat some dessert while he took his dad upstairs. John clung to Dean’s arm all the way up and Dean was struck again by how fragile his dad was. He guessed that he wouldn’t even be able to withstand a strong breeze.

He tucked his dad into bed, made sure he took his medicine and turned to leave. His dad reached a hand out, his finger lightly tapping Dean on the wrist. He turned back toward John. “Yeah?”

His dad struggled to sit and Dean tried to stop him, but he just brushed him off and finally made it to a half-sitting position. He cleared his throat and spoke just above a whisper. “I’m proud of you.”

Dean blinked, not even sure he heard him correctly. His dad just smiled and laid back, his eyes shutting almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Dean stood there for a few moments, just watching his dad’s chest move up and down with each breath he took. He slowly backed out of the doorway and headed downstairs.

The words his dad had said played over and over again in his head. Repeating all the way back to the motel. Repeating like a mantra. Repeating like some cheesy song you get stuck in your head. Repeating till he almost believed the words were real.

***

Soon after those words were uttered, Dean started spending more time at the house, something he tried not to think too hard about. He even found himself considering moving in, maybe taking Sam’s room or seeing if Tina would mind switching, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that yet.

He started making meals for Tina and his dad. Not breakfast, but most lunches and almost every single dinner. Tina would joke that she was never going to be able to cook a meal for anyone again without thinking of how good they could have it. His dad would ask him questions about each meal that he made. What spices did he use? How long did he let the meats marinate? With each question, Dean started to imagine that those words his dad had muttered to him were the truth.

After his dad would go to bed, Dean spent most evenings eating dessert with Tina. Sometimes they would sit out on the front stoop, or sometimes they would even go for a stroll around the block, plates in hand. Dean was looking forward to these moments more and more each day and it scared him. He hadn’t felt anything for any woman since his divorce from Cassie and he never thought he could. Sure, he had slept with a couple of women since then, but that was more out of loneliness and that constant need for physical affection than wanting anything even close to a relationship again.

He wasn’t sure what he could call this thing with Tina yet. Maybe just friendship. Just someone to help him get through the death of his dad. But he would catch himself staring at her a little too long when the moonlight would catch her eyes in just the right way or when she would give a full out laugh, throwing her head slightly back, making his eyes always go directly to her neck.

He still loved Cassie. He knew that with every fiber of his being. But he was growing fonder and fonder of Tina with every passing moment and he would catch himself daydreaming about her sometimes or getting excited when he would hear her voice.

He was sitting in his dad’s room, some old western on TV, his thoughts on Tina. He didn’t even realize his dad had been staring at him. “What are you thinking about?” Dean shook his head, trying to bring his mind back to the present moment.

“Nothing. Mind just wandered.”

His dad smiled at him. “Must have wondered somewhere pretty great.” Dean felt himself blushing and it drove him crazy.

“I was just thinking about a pecan pie recipe I was thinking of trying.”

John laughed, a loud laugh that Dean was worried would bring Tina into the room. “Pecan pie? Is that what they’re calling it now?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation. “Can we just go back to the movie?” Dean pointed at the TV and his dad chuckled, but thankfully dropped the subject.

Several minutes later, John spoke again, his eyes still on the TV. “Dean, the house is paid for.”

Dean looked over at him, a little shocked by what he heard. “What?”

John smiled and looked at him. “You won’t have to worry about that. I promise.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Was it Sam?” He felt his chest tighten at those words and felt a surge of anger. He almost wished they could go back to their previous conversation.

“No. And it wasn’t Bobby either.” He looked back at the TV. “I just want you to know that it will be yours free and clear after I, you know.” His dad laughed at something on the TV and Dean just stared at him in disbelief.

He guessed he should be grateful. He could just sell it and use the money to buy a house for himself. Maybe finally set down permanent roots or pay Bobby back for everything. But he didn’t trust this. He didn’t trust that it was as simple as what his dad had said and he couldn’t help but feel more burdened than liberated.

***

Walking into Ellen’s diner was like going back in time. It still had the same 50’s diner decor. The neon lights outside still blinding, yet oddly comforting. The windows were lined with blue and white vinyl booths and red bar stools were lined up at the counter. An old _Arthur Conley_ song was playing from the speakers.

Ellen didn’t look over at the door while saying, “Just take a seat anywhere you like darlin’.”  Dean smiled and took a seat at the counter.

Ellen kept her back to him as she finished wiping down the counter. He took out a menu and cleared his throat. “So, how is your apple pie?”

Ellen turned around and her face broke out into a bright smile. She shook her head and placed her hand on her hip. “Dean Winchester, you little sneak.”

“Hey, Ellen.” He smiled brightly at her.

She set her rag down and came around from behind the counter, opening her arms wide. “Well, you gonna give me a hug?” He got up and let her pull him into her arms. It was the closest thing that Dean ever got to feeling a mother’s embrace. She pulled back, placing a hand on his cheek. “Look at you.” She smiled at him and then gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

“Ow, what was that for?” Dean rubbed his shoulder as if it hurt, but he kept the smile on his face.

She crossed her arms. “That was for waiting over a week to come and say hi to me.”

He looked down, a bashful grin on his face. “Sorry about that.”

“I guess I can forgive you if you promise to come by someday and whip up your famous bacon cheeseburgers.”

He chuckled. “It’s a deal.”

She led him over to an empty booth and they sat down across from each other. “I’m real sorry about your dad.”

Dean looked down at the table, his fingers tugging at the corner of a napkin. “Thanks.”

“How’s he doin’?”

“He’s… he’s lost a lot of weight.” He looked back up at Ellen and gave her a quick grin, she placed a hand on top of his and squeezed.

“I stopped by a couple weeks ago and hardly recognized him.” She pursed her lips. “I should really get out there more often.”

Dean shook his head. “Hey, you don’t owe him anything.”

She swallowed, looking away from him. “Yeah, perhaps.” He watched her for a moment and saw the sadness and loss across her face. Ellen’s husband had died a little over twenty years ago during a hunting accident. John had shown up to the funeral drunk as a skunk and had said some unkind things to Ellen in front of her young daughter, Jo. Ellen had never really forgiven him and John had always held some resentment towards Ellen. Telling her on numerous occasions that she could never replace Mary and she wouldn’t take his son away from him.

Dean squeezed Ellen’s hand and she looked back at him, a stray tear in the corner of her eye, she smiled at him and pulled herself together with that strength that seemed to live in every cell of her body. “How about I go get you some of that pie?”

“I always love me some pie.” She smiled and patted his hand before heading behind the counter.

Ellen returned a few minutes later, two slices of pie in hand and a cup of coffee. She set both slices down in front of him and sat down across from him. He took a healthy bite letting the sweetness overwhelm his senses. He closed his eyes as he swallowed the first bite down.

Ellen chuckled. “I’ve never known anyone who loved pie as much as you do.”

Dean opened his eyes, grinned brightly, and took another bite. He spoke around the mouthful of pie. “How’s Jo?”

“But you still need to learn some manners.” Dean gave her an apologetic look and swallowed down his bite of pie. “Jo wants to be a detective.”

“A detective?”

“Yep. I think what she really wants to do is drive me to an early grave.”

He laughed. Jo had always been fiercely independent and pushed against her mother every chance she got, but she was also just as fiercely devoted to her mom and even though Jo pushed Ellen away, she would still make sure to call her every day. “Jo can take care of herself.”

“Yeah, I know, but she’s still my little girl.” She gave him a wistful smile. “She’s even seeing somebody.”

“Do I need to kick this somebody’s ass?”

She gave him a hearty laugh. “No. This one’s actually not too bad. He’s kind of a geek. His name’s Garth.”

Dean couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Garth?”

She shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. “I know. But he’s a really good guy and totally in love with her.”

“She deserves that.”

“We all do.” She gave him that look that reminded him of the look his mother would give him when she wanted him to have more faith in his smarts. It shot right to his heart.

Dean looked down at his pie, picking at it. “Well, sometimes it’s just not in the cards.”

Ellen looked at him for a moment, seeing everything he tried hard to hide. “You still love her, don’t you?”

He swallowed and glanced toward the window. “Yeah. But it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late, Dean.”

“I wish I believed that, but she has her own life and she’s-- she’s moving on just fine.” He looked back down at the table, his fingers toying with the edge of the napkin.

“What about you?”

He let out a little laugh. “I don’t think I’m very good at that.”

Ellen reached her hand across the table and took his hand, making him look up at her. “I think you sell yourself short.”

He looked at her for a moment, before pulling his hand away and looking toward the counter. “Yeah, well not too sure others would agree with you on that.”

“Hey.” He took a deep breath and looked back at her. “You’re a good man, Dean.” She gave him a hopeful smile.

He took a bite of pie. “This pie is still the best in town.”

She shook her head, probably wanting to call him on changing the subject, but she let it go. “Thanks.”

He gave her a quick smile and started picking at the pie. “Hey, Ellen?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you heard anything about my dad coming into any kind of money?” He let out a shaky breath, nervous about any answer she might give.

“John?” She shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard of. Why?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just, he said the house was paid off.”

“Oh.” She sat back a little and even looked as shocked as he did.

“You know it was probably Bobby or Sam.”

“Maybe.” She glanced toward the window and he saw a question in her eyes, like maybe she believed what her dad was saying.

Dean wiped his face and tossed the napkin on top of the plate. “Well, thanks for the pie. I think I better get goin’.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but Ellen made a swatting motion and, with a resigned laugh, he held his hands up. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave his hand one final squeeze. “Don’t forget what I said to you, okay?’ He nodded and she pulled him into a tight hug. “Love you kiddo.”

“You too.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before heading out to his car and as he drove away he kept thinking about what his dad had said. Could he be telling the truth? Could he have really done something so selfless? Or was this just another lie of John’s that was going to come crashing down on Dean? He clutched the steering wheel, turning the radio up and trying to drown out his thoughts.  


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three 

After two weeks in Lawrence, Dean finally moved out of the motel. Part of it was due to the fact that the little money he had brought with him was quickly dwindling away and the other reason was that he was getting sick of staring at the same four off-white walls. It was getting rather lonely. But he still refused to move into his dad’s house. Instead, he was staying in a spare room at Bobby’s. The wallpaper was from the seventies and the bed was probably just as old, but it was still as comforting as a warm cup of hot cocoa after a day playing in the snow.

Dean also started helping Benny at the bar. It was just a couple shifts here and there, sometimes tending bar and others manning the small grill behind the bar. He insisted it was temporary. Just a way for him to make up the money he had already spent while out here, but he found himself really liking it.

Every morning Dean would make Bobby and him a huge breakfast, so big that Bobby started complaining about his belly expanding. Despite the grumpy complaints and under-the-breath comments about needing to keep the top button of his jeans undone, Dean saw how happy he was to have him there.

Bobby had never had children. He had tried the marriage thing years before, but sadly it ended when he told his wife, Karen, that he didn’t think he could be a good father. From what little Dean could gather from the bits and pieces he heard, Bobby’s father made John look like Ward Cleaver. But despite Bobby thinking that he could never be a good father, he had taken to the role of surrogate father like a fish to water. He was so good at it that there had been several times when Bobby had slipped up and called Dean and Sam his sons. Dean would feel a warmth in his heart at those words, but he would always notice the embarrassment and shame in Bobby’s eyes.

Dean had just finished serving up a huge plate of bacon, eggs, and French toast when Bobby walked into the kitchen. He walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a huge cup. “I think if I eat one more slice of bacon my insides are going to turn into bacon grease.”

Dean pointed a piece of bacon at Bobby. “Hey, you can never have too much bacon.”

Bobby snorted and sat down at the table. “Maybe tomorrow we should try oatmeal.”

Dean grimaced at the thought and he pointed a finger at Bobby. “I’ve never seen you eat oatmeal.”

“Well, it’s never too late to start.” Bobby shook his head at the bounty of food before him, but a smile crept up on his lips and Dean heard a soft, contented sigh when he took his first bite of French toast.

Dean took a bite of bacon and looked around the kitchen. “So, you’re really gonna sell this place?”

Bobby swallowed down his bite of food and wiped his mouth. “Yep. Retirement beckons.”

“Where do you think you’ll go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Florida or California. Become a beach bum.” Dean tried to picture Bobby sitting on the beach, a drink in hand and the sun beating down on him. He had to stifle a chuckle at that. “I’ll probably just end up buying some condo in town.” Bobby laughed and took a sip of coffee.

“I have a hard time picturing you anywhere but here.”

Bobby looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time. Dean saw a little glimmer in his eyes. “I know what you mean.” Bobby shook his head free of whatever memories he was immersed in and returned his attention to his breakfast.

Dean picked at his eggs. “I need to ask you something, Bobby, and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

“When have ever been anything but honest with you?”

“Fair point.” Dean wiped his hands on his napkin, trying to ignore how they were shaking slightly. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wasn’t quite sure yet how to phrase this question.

“Well?”

Dean set down his fork, swallowed around his nerves, and looked up at Bobby. “Did you pay off my dad’s house?”

Bobby looked at him for a moment and Dean had a hard time reading the look on his face. He quickly glanced away before asking, “What?”

Dean clasped his hands together and tried to look calmer than his shaking knee under the table would imply. “The house. My dad says it’s owned free and clear and I need to know if you did that.”

Bobby set his fork down and let out a sigh. “So, he told you?” Bobby shook his head. “Your dad paid it off. I haven’t given him anything for a while now.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and he just stared at Bobby. “Seriously?”

“Yep. One day John came to me and said he didn’t need my help anymore.”

“Well, then how did he pay for it?” Bobby looked down. “Bobby?”

“It’s not my place.”

Dean felt a sinking dread inside and wondered what his father had found himself in. “Did he break the law?”

Bobby looked at him with all the honesty in the world. “No.” Bobby leaned forward. “Look, your dad was in a bad place for quite some time before his diagnosis.”

“How bad?”

“Let’s just say it’s a miracle he’s still alive.

Dean ran his hand down his face. “Bobby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had enough going on in your life and your dad had already done so much damage. I didn’t want you to see him this way.”

“Bobby, I’ve cleaned up my dad after he’s puked on himself. I don’t think it can get any worse.”

“Well, it did. Real bad. He was feeling sorry for himself and cursing out you and Sam. Saying you guys had abandoned him.”

“So, all this ‘Dad is different’ was all crap?” Dean crossed his arms tightly and pursed his lips.

“Dean, no, you don’t… look, your dad was at the end of his rope and he… he got the diagnosis and pretty soon it was like, I don’t know, some kind of cosmic wake-up call.”

“So just, what, snap and he’s suddenly not a bastard anymore?”

“No. Of course not. It’s just… I think you need to talk to your dad about it, okay?” Dean shook his head and looked away. “Look, I’m not about to excuse what John did to you boys. Lord knows I’ve yelled at him about that till I was blue in the face. But a man can change, Dean and your dad… your dad is trying.”

“Everybody keeps saying that, but I have a hard time believing it.”

“Well, maybe you should try to really talk to him.”

“I go there every day.”

“Yeah, to sit and watch old movies.”

“My dad hurt us too much and I don’t think I can… I don’t know how to look past that.”

“I know. I do. But time is running out, Dean and I don’t want you to wake up one day blaming yourself for this as well.” Dean picked at a piece of bacon on his plate. “You deserve to make peace with him” Bobby squeezed his shoulder. “Do it for yourself. Not for him.”

Dean swallowed and looked up at Bobby, who gave him a soft smile, and Dean found himself wanting to just dive into that hope. But he didn’t know where to start.

***

Tina had asked Dean if he would mind staying with his dad for the day while she ran some errands and spent some time with a friend of hers. He said he was happy to do it, but as usual, the nerves rose with the thought of spending an extended amount of time with his dad without a buffer.

Dean decided to stop at the store on the way into town to pick up some items to make a huge pot of chicken noodle soup. His dad's appetite had steadily been declining and he hoped that he would be able to at least get the soup down. Plus, Dean thought the cooking might be a good distraction.

When he arrived his dad was taking a mid-morning nap and Tina was cleaning up the kitchen. “He’s already had his morning meds, but he will need another pill at two. I should be back before he needs his nighttime meds and you can call me if anything comes up or-”

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

She smiled at him. “I know.” She grabbed her purse and took one final look around the kitchen before heading toward the door. “I’ll be back this evening.” He watched as she exited the house and left him alone with all the ghosts that still haunted the house.

Dean walked into the kitchen and looked around. He decided to start making the soup. He was relieved that his dad was asleep and he could avoid dealing with him for a little while longer.

Forty minutes later and the kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of homemade chicken noodle soup. Dean was so wrapped up in the cooking that he didn’t even hear his dad enter the room.

“Smells delicious.” Dean startled and turned to see John leaning up against the kitchen counter, his legs a little shaky and a slight cough behind every word.

“Dad, you should be in bed.”

John waved him off. “It smelled too good to just lie up there.” He coughed and Dean went to his side, taking his elbow and leading him over to the table. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“No, you’re not.” John sat down. “Let me get you some water.” Dean hurried back to the kitchen and poured his dad a glass of water. He returned to the kitchen table and watched as his dad took a few big sips.

John set the glass down and gave Dean a little smile. “So, when do I get to try that soup?”

Dean hesitated for a moment, that old childhood fear of rejection coursing through his veins, before he relented. “I can get you some now.”

John smiled at him. “Thanks.” Dean nodded and got up from the table.

He spooned out a generous helping of the soup and returned to the table. “I was gonna make some bread and-”

John held his hand up. “This is fine.” He watched as his dad leaned over the bowl and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh and Dean tried not to let that contentment touch his heart. John opened his eyes dug his spoon in and ate a hearty bite, little droplets of soup dribbling down the side of his mouth. He put the spoon down and wiped his mouth. “Best soup I’ve ever had.” The smile on John’s face when he said those words was actually filled with pride and Dean felt a little bubble of hope well up inside.

Dean gave him a quick smile. “Thanks.”

“You should have some.”

He wasn’t planning on it, hadn’t really even been that hungry, but his dad almost seemed eager to share in the joy of eating what he had made that it made his stomach growl. “Yeah, okay.” Dean got himself a bowl and joined his dad at the table. They sat in relative silence while enjoying the soup. John would occasionally make delighted noises while eating and that damn bubble of hope just got bigger and bigger, and it was starting to take up residence in his heart.

***

After they finished their soup, Dean helped his dad upstairs and into bed. He found an old John Wayne western on T.V. and settled in to watch it with his dad.

About a half an hour into the movie, Dean looked over at his dad. John’s eyes were fixed on the TV, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He took a deep breath, willed himself to remain calm, and asked the question he was afraid to ask, yet desperately needed an answer to. “How did you pay for the house?”

John looked away from the TV. “What?”

Dean averted his eyes and looked down at his hands. “Did you do something illegal, Dad?”

“You want to look me in the eyes when you accuse me of something like that?”

Dean took a deep breath and looked at his dad. “Did you do something illegal, Dad?”

John motioned toward the TV. “Turn that off, okay?” Dean grabbed the remote and hit the off button. John looked at Dean. “I didn’t break the law. I promise you that.”

“Okay. Then how did you do it?”

“Vegas.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. All the years his dad had been gambling he had never known him to win big. Hell, most nights he came back owing money. “Vegas?” John nodded. “Yeah, right.”

“Swear to God.” Dean crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Look, I was in a bad, bad place after my diagnosis and I…” John looked toward the wall. “I just wanted to have one last fling.” He watched as his dad swallowed and saw a slight look of shame cross his face. “So, I took what money I did have and decided to blow it all. One last hurrah.” John glanced toward the window. “I was never very good at gambling. I liked to say I was, but the only thing I was good at was throwing away money. Blowing every lead I’d get.” He let out a soft sigh and looked back at Dean. “But something happened this time. I just kept winning. It was like I couldn’t lose. And pretty soon I had over twenty thousand dollars.”

“Holy shit.”

John raised his eyebrow at Dean, but let out a soft chuckle. “I must have counted it a hundred times. I couldn’t believe it.”

“And you just decided to come back and pay off the house?” Dean couldn’t help the bite in his tone. Anytime his dad had any money it was rarely put into the house or anything that wasn’t at least eighty-six proof.

“No.” Dean felt a little shocked by his honesty, but at least it made more sense. “I planned on getting the nicest suite they had, buying some Gold Label Johnnie Walker and just saying a final goodbye to the world.” His dad let out a soft chuckle. “But then the weirdest thing happened. I saw your mom.”

Dean felt his heart clench at that and he said just above a whisper, “What?”

“I saw her clear as day. Just standing there under the neon lights of the casino.”

“Dad-”

“I know. It sounds crazy and I was probably five sheets to the wind, but it was her.” His dad looked at him. “I could smell her. All crisp fall air and vanilla.” His dad closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “God, I loved that smell.” John opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. “She was just looking at me with this… with this sadness. This utter devastation.” John looked down at his hands. “And it was like I woke up from some bad dream and I just… I just left.” He looked over at Dean and Dean tried to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to look away. “I came back here and I decided to do one thing right before I died. So, I marched into that bank and was shocked to find that I had just enough to pay the whole thing off.” He glanced down. “Which I know is because of you and Bobby.”

“You really saw Mom?” John looked up at him, his eyes watering, but a warm smile on his face. He nodded. Dean wanted to stop himself from asking all these questions. He wanted to stop himself from actually wanting to believe this. But he couldn’t help it. “Did she say anything?”

“No. She didn’t have to. The look on her face said everything.”

Dean looked down at his hands, his eyes counting the freckles that dotted the skin. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“No.” Dean looked up at John. His mouth was turned down in a frown and his eyes were filled with so much pain and regret that Dean instantly wanted to look away before he drowned in it. “I was a horrible father, Dean. I know this. Everyone knows this. I lied to you guys. I hurt you in ways that…” He looked away. “But I want to make up for that.”

“By paying off the house?”

John looked back at him, a pained look on his face. “By lifting the burden from your shoulders.” Dean blinked and looked away. “I know you gave up a lot for this family. I know just how much.”

Dean felt that bubble of hope being replaced by fear and he just wanted this conversation to be over. “Dad, we don’t have to-”

“Yes, we do. You have every right to hate me. To yell at me. To never forgive me. But I need you to know how sorry I am.”

Dean just stared at his hands, afraid to see the look on his dad’s face. “Sorry?”

“Yes.”

“What are you sorry for? The way you forgot to make sure we had food on the table or how you’d sometimes tell me that it was my fault that mom died?”

“Dean-”

He looked up at John and hardened his face. “What? You said I have the right to be mad, right?” John gave him a small nod. “Because the dad I know wouldn’t be sorry. The dad I know wouldn’t win a giant wad of money and pay off the house. So, you can stop trying to fool me with this act of yours.” He blinked away all the tears that wanted to come. He couldn’t give his dad the satisfaction of tears. “So, what is it you need? Did you make some bookie mad and you're hoping that this story will make me forget all about that?”

“No, Dean. I’m telling you the truth.” His dad looked honestly shocked by Dean’s doubts and that just made him angrier.

“You're telling me my mom just magically appeared and just like that you were a changed man.” Dean furiously wiped away a stray tear that had decided to betray him.

“I know it’s hard to believe. I do. But-”

“It’s bullshit is what it is.” His dad’s mouth opened slightly and Dean could see a tiny hint of agitation. He quickly turned away from John before he could say anything else. Dean turned the TV on, crossing his arms tightly. “Can we just finish the movie now?”

“Dean?”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.” He could feel his dad’s eyes on him, but he kept his attention glued to the TV.  

They spent the rest of the day in relative silence, the television keeping them company. When Tina returned that night, Dean lied and said he needed to cover the bar for Benny and made a quick exit. He got behind the wheel of Baby and peeled away from the house, his pulse pounding in his ears.

He kept driving, driving past the turn he needed to take to get to Benny’s. Past the turn to go to Bobby’s. When he finally stopped driving he was shocked by where he ended up. Maybe it was the story his dad told or maybe it was just being back here, but somehow he had ended up stopping the car in front of that neon sign advertising tasty treats.

***

Dean had sworn off soft serve years ago and had avoided driving past the Dairy Queen for years. In high school, he would take long detours if he knew the preferred path would bring him anywhere in the vicinity of the place. So how he ended up here, car parked in the parking lot and his eyes glued to the neon “open” sign, he couldn’t understand.

Dean’s hands were shaking as he opened the car door and walked slowly to the front door. The metal of the handle felt oddly cool in the hot summer night and when he opened the door his senses were overwhelmed with the smell of the ice cream. He could almost taste it melting on his tongue.

He stood in line, his eyes staring at the menu. It had expanded since he had last been here. More food items. More tasty treats.

“Sir?” The voice made Dean jump slightly and he looked down from the menu at the young kid behind the counter. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. His shirt was dotted with splatters of ice cream and Dean didn’t want to think about the last time it may have been washed.

Dean managed a smile. “Sorry. I’ll have a vanilla cone.”

The kid shrugged and rang him up. Dean stood there waiting for his purchase, his hands still shaking.

A few seconds later the cone was in his hands, a napkin in the other. Dean stared at it for a moment, his eyes traversing the many swirls, almost trying to connect them. He held it up to his nose and inhaled. He closed his eyes as the smell of vanilla with a hint of the chocolate that probably filtered through the machine filled his senses. When he opened his eyes he noticed that a young couple in line was giving him a weird look, probably thinking he was heavily medicated. He gave them an apologetic grin and walked outside.

Dean chose a seat on the small patio, the cone still in his hand untouched. He looked around him and saw a young kid on a nearby bench. His mom and dad sitting on either side of him, all three of them eating their respective cones. Dean quickly looked away.

Dean held the cone up to his mouth and his tongue slowly poked out, taking a little taste. He licked his lips and went in for a bigger taste. He closed his eyes as the vanilla concoction overtook his taste buds, filling his mouth and igniting all those long ignored memories of sitting here in peace with his mother. He could almost hear her laughing, hear her waxing poetic about the gift from God that was soft serve.

Dean continued to eat the cone, letting each bite take him back to those nights. Replaying every conversation he could remember. Every word of praise his mother gave him. Every single song she would sing on the way there and back. And before he knew it, Dean had finished off the cone.

He sat there, the napkin still in his other hand, and started to cry.

***

He had left the Dairy Queen and had started driving around his old hometown. He drove up and down almost every street, stopping in front of houses that used to hold memories. Tears would randomly start flowing and instead of trying to stop them, he just let them flow.

He even drove through that intersection that turned the universe upside down. He survived it again and he didn’t even know how.

He visited every corner of the town until he felt his eyes getting so red and sore from crying that he had a hard time seeing. He headed back to Bobby’s and quietly made his way to the guest room.

He hadn’t meant to call her. It was really late where she was and he didn’t want to bother her. But before he could question it, he started to dial. She picked up on the third ring, her voice tinged with sleep and concern. “Dean?”

His voice cracked slightly when he answered her. “Hey, Cassie.”

“Are you okay?” Dean closed his eyes and he felt another tear fall down his cheek. He thought he would’ve been wrung dry by now. “Dean?”

“I’m sorry to call so late. I just-” He let out a soft sob in reply and instantly wanted to take it back.

“Is it your dad? Did he-”

“No. He’s still alive.”

“Dean, talk to me.” Her words were dripping with worry and he instantly felt guilty.

“I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry.”

“Wait, Dean don’t hang-up.” He paused for a moment, staring at the phone. He wanted to tell her everything, but he didn’t want to burden her with his life. “Please.”

The please broke him and he closed his eyes. “I’m scared, Cassie. I’m so scared.”

“I know.” He heard some rustling noise on the other side of the phone and he guessed she was getting out of bed or sitting up straighter. “Do you want me to come out there?”

“No.” Cassie had offered this before when he told her about his dad. He had wanted to take her up on that offer. He wanted to have her hand there to hold. But he couldn’t do that to her. “I have Bobby and Ellen and Benny and…” He stopped himself before saying, Tina.

“What about Sam?”

“He already said his goodbyes. I don’t want to bother him with this.”

“Dean, this shouldn’t just be up to you.”

He felt another sob threatening to come out and he tried to swallow it down. “My dad said he saw my mom.”

“What?”

“In Vegas. He said he saw her in Vegas.”

There was silence for a minute and Dean had a rush of fear that she had hung up. “Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know. I just know he’s different somehow.”

“Facing death can change people.”

“Don’t I know it.” Dean laid back on the bed, staring up on the ceiling. “He’s fading away, Cassie. He just keeps getting smaller and smaller. What do I do?”

“You make your peace with him. You say your goodbyes.”

“What if I can’t do that?”

“You are the strongest person I know, even when you don’t believe it. You have a heart as big as the world. That heart and that strength will guide you through.”

Dean wanted to brush her compliment off with some silly joke. Maybe change the subject. But instead, he found himself feeling grateful that she still would talk to him. That she still saw something of value and worth in him. “Thank you for not hating me.”

“I could never hate you, Dean. Never.” He heard a smile in her words and felt a small glimmer of hope in his heart.

***

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Dean was behind the bar, cleaning a few glasses as Benny was busy jotting down some notes on his inventory.

“Ghosts?” Dean nodded and Benny gave a shrug. “I don’t know. Never really thought about it before.” Benny leaned on the bar. “Why? You see one or something?”

“Nope. Don’t even believe in ‘em.” Dean set down the glass he was cleaning and leaned against the bar.

“This about your dad?”

Dean glanced over at him. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“No, man. Just thought maybe because of…” Benny looked down, seeming to instantly regret what he was about to say. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I know he’s dying.” There was a brief moment of silence and Dean saw an old familiar look cross Benny’s face. It was a look he used to get all the time as a kid. That “sorry your mom died” pity look. God, he hated that look. “So, you get up the courage to ask out that Pamela chick?”

Benny chuckled. “Hey, I’m not lacking courage, man.”

Dean arched his eyebrow. “So, you got a date then?”

“I’m working on it.” Dean chuckled and Benny glared at him before waving him off and heading down to the other end of the bar. Pamela had been Benny’s teenage crush. She had been a few grades ahead of them and had left town as soon as she graduated. Six years later and two failed marriages and she was back in town. Benny had been dying to ask her out, but still hadn’t gotten the courage up. She was the only woman in the world who ever made him nervous. Probably a good sign that she could be the one.

“Hey, bartender, what does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place?” Dean glanced back and saw Tina taking a seat at the bar.

He gave her a sly smile, crossing his arms. “Should you really be drinking during the day?”

“I’m on a break.” She waved her hand. “Besides, I drugged him so he wouldn’t realize I had snuck away.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide. “What!?”

She chuckled. “I’m kidding. His friend stopped by, Ellen.” Dean’s eyes grew even wider. “What? Was that not a good thing?”

He shook his head and started to pour Tina her beer. “No. It’s fine. I’m just surprised is all.”

He handed her the beer and he saw that she wanted to ask him something, but Benny walked over before she had a chance. “Hey, Tina.”

“Hey, Benny.” She had that same little smile on her face that she had the first time she met him, but this time she didn’t blush. Instead, she returned her attention to Dean. “What do I owe you for the beer?”

Before he could answer, Benny slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Your money’s no good here.”

“Thanks.”

“Any friend of Dean’s is a friend of mine.” Benny gave her a smile and then winked at Dean. Dean glared and tried to hide the slight blush that crept up on his cheeks. “Remember, Dean, if it gets busy you can’t spend the whole time only helping all the pretty nurses.” Tina smiled and Dean felt that blush getting deeper. He was going to kill Benny.

“Don’t you have some Tequila bottles you need to count or something?” Benny chuckled and shook his head.

He turned his attention back to Tina. “It was nice seeing you again, Tina.”

“You too.”

Benny gave him another sly grin before walking away and Dean had a hard time meeting Tina’s eyes at first. He decided to busy himself with wiping off the bar. “So, how’s my dad today?”

“He’s… he’s okay.” She glanced down at her beer, her fingers tracing a line in the condensation.

“Tina?”

She worried her bottom lip and hesitated for a few seconds before answering. “He didn’t eat breakfast. Barely touched lunch.” She looked at him, an apologetic look on her face. “Ellen, she brought him a pie so maybe he’ll eat that.”

“How long does he have?” He felt his heart stutter in his chest.

“I’m not a doctor, Dean.” Her fingers absently drew circles in the condensation on the glass.

“Come on, just tell me.”

She turned her eyes away from him. “I’d say a week, maybe less.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, like it pained her to admit it.

“Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say. Dean kept his head down, wiping the rest of the counter.

“But I could be wrong. I mean he has lasted longer than the doctors thought and he’s stubborn as-”

“I always thought I would be happy when this happened.” Dean stopped wiping the counter and leaned up against the bar. “I used to wish for my dad to die sometimes.” He glanced at Tina and then quickly looked away. “What kind of horrible person does that?” He looked down at the bar, shame coursing through his veins.

“I used to wish that my dad would just up and leave.” Dean looked up at her and she gave him an understanding smile before continuing. "I imagined him writing some long letter telling me that he wasn’t my real dad. That my real dad was living in some quiet little suburb with my real mom, who hadn’t run away.” She ran a finger along the rim of her beer glass. “I just wanted the hurt to stop.”

Dean swallowed and let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want my dad to die.”

Tina reached her hand out, placing it gently on top of his. “I know.”

He looked over at her, their eyes meeting for a moment. He got lost in the blue and the tiny little flecks of brown that sparkled under the fluorescent lights of the bar. “Tina-”

Tina blinked and pulled her hand away quickly, turning her head away from him. He felt like he had done something wrong. Crossed some line that he wasn’t even aware of. She looked around the bar. “I do like this place.”

“Yeah, me too.” He wanted to say more. Ask her if he had done something wrong. But instead, he just watched her silently.

***

Dean followed Tina back to his dad’s house a couple hours later. They had stopped at the store on the way home, picking up an already made chicken and some bread.

When they opened the front door they were greeted with the sound of laughter. Ellen’s rich timber joined by John’s fainter laugh. His voice was getting weaker every day. They followed the sound inside and found Ellen and John sitting on the couch in the living room, a photo album open on her lap.

Dean cleared his throat. “What’s so funny?”

Ellen and his dad looked up at the same time. “Just taking a walk down memory lane,” Ellen said.

His dad patted the seat next to him. “Why don’t you come take a look?”

Dean frowned and shook his head. “No, thanks.” Dean lifted up the bag of groceries in his hand. “We brought dinner. I’ll go put this away.” Dean took the other bag from Tina and walked toward the kitchen.

Dean set the groceries down in the kitchen and started to empty the contents, setting out the fixings for dinner. “Dean?” He looked up and saw Ellen standing in the doorway. “Do you need some help?”

“Nope. I got it.” He turned his back to her and continued putting the dinner together.

“You got something you want to say to me?” Dean shook his head and started cutting up the chicken. “You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Dean set the knife down and leaned against the counter. “I’m just confused.”

Ellen crossed her arms. “Your dad and I were great friends once.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Dean turned to face her. “He helped me out of a very dark place once. This was before Jo. Before I opened the diner. I was wandering through life with no direction and your dad, well, he helped me get back on my feet. Introduced me to my husband. Helped me with the diner.” Ellen sighed. “Your dad wasn’t always a jackass.”

“So you’ve forgiven him then?”

Ellen moved away from the door and stood next to him. “Yes. For what he did to me. But not for what he did to you guys.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “It will take a hell of a lot for me to do that.” He smiled at that.

Ellen changed the subject. “I’m hungry. I’ll set the table.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a smile and went about setting the table.

The dinner was better than he thought it would be. His dad managed to get down three bites of chicken and finished off half a piece of bread. His cough wasn’t as bad as it had been and he seemed almost lighter somehow. Dean figured it probably had something to do with Ellen being there. Maybe there was something to the power of forgiveness.

Once dinner was over, Dean helped his dad to bed. Tina and Ellen offered to help, but he waved them off.

He helped his dad get under the covers and made sure he had a cup of water by his bed. “Goodnight, Dad.”

Dean turned to leave when his dad reached out and took his hand. He looked back at his dad. “Thanks for coming home, Son.” Dean gave him a quick nod and walked out.

Instead of going downstairs, Dean walked down the hallway toward his room. Tina’s room now. He walked inside and headed toward the bedroom window. He looked down on the street below him, memories of playing on the sidewalk below flooding his brain. Memories of his mother watching him from the front porch or having sprinkler fights with his mom and dad. Everything had been normal in this house at one time.

Dean turned to leave and stopped when his eyes caught a glimpse of the little imperfection in the windowsill. He reached out his hand and traced over the indent that he had made on the night his mother had died. Dean closed his eyes, his fingers still on the indent, and he could feel that heavy book in his hand. He could almost hear the sound of the pages flapping in the air as the hardcover made contact with the windowsill, chipping away at a little piece of wood.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at the window and in the reflection, he saw his nine-year-old self. He wanted to reach out to that boy and try and protect him. Try to warn him of all the pain that was yet to come.

Dean studied that memory in the glass. That little boy he could still see. Then he saw his dad behind him. Not the Dad lying in bed dying. Not the Dad that would drown his sorrows in brown liquid. Dean turned his head from the window and watched his memory play out before him.

_“Dean.” John put his hands on his son’s arms, kneeling down in front of him. Dean looked down, shame and fear on his face. “It’s okay to be angry. I’m angry too.” Dean looked up at his dad, tears streaming down his face. John wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. “It’ll be okay, Dean. It’ll be okay.”_

“You okay?” Dean jumped, the memory fading away. He blinked and looked over at Tina. She was standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Tina took a hesitant step forward. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m fine.” He looked down at his wrist, forgetting he no longer had a watch to distract him. “I better go.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. Okay.” He walked toward the door and Tina touched his arm.

“I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks.” He quickly made his way down the stairs and out the door.

***

The drive back to Bobby’s felt a lot longer than normal. Dean’s hands were shaking and he couldn’t seem to get that memory out of his head. His dad comforting him. The sound of the book flying. The chipped wood falling to the floor. The indent beneath his fingers. His dad lying in that bed, dying.

Bobby was up reading when Dean got home, a mug of coffee on the table next to him. Dean closed the door and Bobby looked up from his book. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Dean fiddled with the keys in his hands.

“Everything okay?”

Dean’s thumb ran over the ridges in the keys. He let out a sigh. “I think I need to stay at my dad’s.” He looked up at Bobby, not sure what he expected to see.

Bobby set down his book, slowly got up from the chair and walked over to him. Bobby nodded his head and said, ”Yeah.” Dean nodded and Bobby pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as that past Dad had held him. “It’ll be okay, Son. It’ll be okay.” Dean hugged Bobby back.

***

Dean stood in his father’s doorway watching as his chest rose and fell. His eyes were closed and he could hear a soft snore. For a moment he could imagine that his dad wasn’t dying. That he was just resting. That at any minute he would open his eyes and look at Dean, maybe have some remark about how he was wasting his life or a snarky comment about his divorce. Something that would remind Dean that the Dad he knew was still alive and kicking.

Dean reached down and picked up his suitcase and headed towards his room. Tina had been kind enough to quickly switch rooms with him when he called her that morning. He had told her he could just stay in Sam’s, but she insisted that he take his room. He was grateful, but scared to death to move back in there. He tried to tell himself it was just until John passed. It was temporary and he could survive temporary. But with every piece of clothing he packed, Dean almost changed his mind.

Dean stood in the center of the room, looking out that window like he did the night before, when there was a soft knock on the door. Dean turned to see Tina standing there, two cups of tea in her hand. “I thought you might want some tea.”

Dean smiled. “Tea?”

“It always calms me down.”

“I look like I need to calm down, huh?” He tried to crack a smile. Tried to lighten the tension in his chest, but it didn’t work.

“No, but maybe a little relaxation.”

Tina handed him the cup of tea and he sat down on the edge of the bed. Tina took a seat at the small desk in the corner. “Thanks for letting me take this room.”

“It’s your room.”

“Yeah, but you were settled in here and-”

“He’s happy you’re here.” Dean smiled at her and wished he could say the same. He took a sip of the tea, letting the warmth flow down his throat and into his belly. He had to admit that it did bring a comforting feeling to him. Almost like a warm blanket. “So, what made you decide to stay?”

“I don’t know.” He looked down at the cup of tea, watching the liquid swirl. “I guess I figured it would be easier this way.” He shrugged and looked back up at her. “Hey, at least this way you’ll get more breaks.” She frowned and looked down. He could see the sadness in her eyes and it made his heart break just a little. “Do you always get attached to your patients?”

She looked up at him, her eyebrows knitted together. “I’m not…” Dean raised his eyebrow. “Okay, fine, I’m kind of attached. It’s a hazard of the job I guess. I try not to, but some of them just worm their way in.” She pointed her finger at him. “And before you say it, I know your dad isn’t a great guy. I know he’s an asshole. I guess I just have a soft spot for assholes.”

Dean laughed. “Guess that’s why you like me, huh?”

Tina’s expression became entirely too serious and Dean felt his stomach flip and a little flutter in his chest. “You’re not an asshole, Dean. Not even close.”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, until Dean forced his eyes away, standing up. “It’s getting late, so I think I’ll…”

Tina shook her head, standing up. “Yeah, of course. I’ll let you get to bed.”

Dean watched as she walked toward the door, he saw that her hands were shaking slightly and he wondered if her chest had the same little flutter inside. “Tina?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for the tea.” He wanted to say more than that, but he didn’t have those words yet. She smiled at him, nodded her head, and walked away.

***

Dean hadn’t had a nightmare like this one in years. It was the same one he used to have for years after his mother died. He would be riding along in the Impala, some Bob Seger song playing on the radio. His mom was singing along to the song, her voice as beautiful as sunshine. Then the crash would happen again. Only this time it was in slow motion. Every bit of it. He would watch helplessly as his mom was flung around. Her head would bang on top of the car and he would watch as her neck slowly broke and glass shards flew towards her face, cutting away at the precious skin.

He tried to move. To speak. To reach out to his mother. But every time he was frozen. Just frozen inside the nightmare. Not able to help. Forced to watch his mother bleed, gasp for air and scream before her death silenced her once beautiful voice.

Dean shot up in bed. His old childhood bed with that unfamiliar green comforter on top. He was drenched in sweat and he was shaking slightly. He looked around. Trying to remember where he was. Remember the year. His age. That the dream wasn’t real, even though it was.

Dean took in a few breaths trying to steady his breathing. Once he was finally able to hear just the soft night outside and not his heart pounding in his ears, Dean got out of bed and made his way downstairs.

He filled up a glass of water and finished it off in three swallows. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and wondered if coming here was the worst decision he had ever made. He hadn’t had that nightmare since the first night after his divorce from Cassie. He was hoping that had been the last time.

Dean refilled the glass of water and headed back upstairs. He stopped abruptly when he got to his room. His dad was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face pale and a tissue in his hand. He tried to give Dean a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Dad, what are you doing in here?” Dean went over to his dad. “Come on, I’ll help you get back to bed.” Dean took his dad’s arm and tried to help him stand, but his dad just shook his head and pulled his arm away.

“Did you have that nightmare again?”

Dean took a step back. “I don’t-”

“You used to have that nightmare every night after your mom died.” _And then some_ , Dean thought. “I would come in here and comfort you and you would be shaking. I was so scared. I had no idea what to do.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well, it was before I… it was right after she died. You still weren’t talking and I didn’t know what to do.” His dad looked down at his hands like they would hold the key to something. “And then I remembered that your mom used to sing you to sleep every night.”

“Yeah, Hey Jude.”

John smiled wistfully and nodded his head. “God, she loved that song.” He sighed. “But I couldn’t bring myself to sing that one. I tried, but every time I would almost break down and cry. So one night when you had another nightmare I tried playing the album for you, but it still didn’t seem to work. You were so pale and scared.” John looked straight ahead, his eyes cast far away like he was in that memory. “So one day I just started singing another song to you.”

“What? You never sang to me.”

John looked up at him and Dean saw the hurt in his eyes. He nodded his head. “Long As I Can See the Light.” Dean knitted his brow. “That’s what I sang to you.” John started coughing and Dean handed him his glass of water. John took a few sips. “And it worked. It actually worked.” He chuckled. “I mean my voice was nothing like your mom’s, but I saw you calm down after that. I saw that same comforted look on your face that you would get every time your mom sang to you.” John looked up at him. “I heard you get up and I thought maybe I could sing to you again.”

“Dad, I’m a grown man-”

“Please?”

Dean looked down at his hands. “I’m fine, Dad.” He chanced a glance up at his dad. John was frowning and Dean could see the tears in his eyes. “Jesus, who are you? I don’t...” Dean looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. He looked back down at his dad, that same pained expression in his eyes. “Fine. You can sing to me.” His dad smiled and Dean could see a tension leave his body.

His dad stood up, steadying himself on the back of a chair and Dean got back in bed.  Dean was grateful when John decided to take the chair at the desk. He cleared his throat. “Now, my voice is probably worse than it was back then.” Dean wanted to say he didn’t remember and it wouldn’t matter anyway, but he just gave him a small smile as his dad began to sing. “ _Put a candle in the window...”_

Dean watched him for a few moments, just letting the words wash over him and by the third line of the song Dean remembered. In an instant, he was back there. Back to those days and weeks after his mother died. Those nightmares that would wake him up every night, drenching him in sweat. And there was his dad, trying to comfort him. Trying to be both mother and father to his oldest son.

He remembered when his dad finally settled on singing the CCR song. It was like a light bulb had gone off over his head and he was so proud when he was finally able to bring comfort to his son. Dean remembered. Remembered hearing that song every night. He remembered how the words were like a light in the storm chasing all the demons away.

Then one day it stopped. The nightmares would come every night, but his father would no longer be there to keep the demons at bay and the song would no longer play.

Dean felt the tear slide down his cheek as the final words were sung. He turned on his side and let sleep wash over him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

Dean woke-up at nine the next morning. It was the latest he had slept in some time and when he went to sit up he felt a crick in his neck. He stretched, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around the room. His dad was no longer sitting at the desk and he wondered when and how he had made his way back to his room. He briefly worried that maybe he had collapsed on his way back and that he would find his lifeless body on the floor when he stood up.

Dean threw back the comforter and swung his legs around, setting his feet down on the scratchy carpet that should’ve been replaced years ago. “Please don’t be lying on the floor. Please don’t be lying on the floor.” Dean stood up and looked down. Nothing. He let out a sigh of relief and made his way to the bathroom.

When he was finished, he headed down the hall toward the stairs. He briefly paused before he reached the door to his dad’s room. He debated whether or not to peek inside. Maybe see that his dad was still breathing or maybe sleeping. Maybe watch the morning news with him or see if he needed anything. Instead, Dean quickly walked passed the open door and headed for the stairs.

When he got to the kitchen, in search of coffee, he saw Tina standing at the stove. She was humming along to some song in her head, her hips swinging back and forth. He smiled as he watched her crack a couple of eggs into a pan, her body still moving to the music that only she could hear.

He took a step into the kitchen and cleared his throat. Tina jumped a little and he saw the blush creeping up her neck. She set down the spatula in her hand and turned. “Jesus, you scared me.” She avoided his eyes and he felt a little guilty for having watched her for longer than necessary.

“Sorry.” Dean walked over to the cupboard, grabbed a cup and poured himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the kitchen counter. “I could’ve whipped us up something.”

She waved him off, still avoiding his eyes. “It’s okay.” She looked over her shoulder at him briefly, the blush slowly fading. “Do you want an egg?”

He smiled at her, trying to make it as reassuring as possible. “That sounds great. Thanks.” She nodded and he went to the kitchen table and sat down. Dean looked down into his coffee cup. “So, is my dad awake?”

“No. He was awake earlier, but he seemed extra tired this morning.” Dean felt a rush of guilt at that and he hated it. He didn’t want to feel guilty about anything having to do with his dad.

Dean took a sip of coffee. “Did he eat breakfast?”

Tina walked over to the table carrying two plates of eggs. She set one down in front of Dean and gave him an apologetic look. “No. He tried, but then he… he threw up.”

“Oh.” Dean looked down at the plate of eggs. He had been trying to harden himself for this. After all, he was supposed to hate his dad. He was supposed to only feel anger toward him. Not this sympathy. Not this fear. He took a bite of his eggs and tried to swallow around the little ball of fear that had welled up inside.

“How did you sleep?”

Dean looked up at Tina. “Fine. I hope it wasn’t too awful sleeping in Sam’s old room or-”

“Really, the only thing that was different was the color of the comforter.” She gave him a warm smile.

“Good.” Dean moved the eggs around on the plate, spearing a couple pieces onto his fork, but not lifting them to his mouth.

“Sorry, I’m not really much of a cook.” Tina looked down at her plate of eggs like it was poison and her face was turned down into a frown.

“What are you talking about?” He picked up his fork and ate a huge bite. “Best eggs I’ve ever had.”

She rolled her eyes and he could tell she didn’t buy it, but there was a small little smile playing at the corner of her mouth and he would count that as a small victory. “So, are you gonna stay around today?”

“I was thinking of going by the bar, seeing if Benny needed any help today. Maybe go run some errands for you. Or if you need a break from my dad I can stay here.”

“Whatever you need to do. I think we’re pretty good on groceries unless there’s something you need.”

“I think I have everything I need.” They sat there silently for a few minutes eating their eggs. Dean caught himself thinking about his dad lying in the bed upstairs, his stomach empty, his body frail and weak. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he knew he had to. “Tina, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Dean set down his fork and licked his lips in that nervous way he sometimes did. “How does it work?”

“How does what work?”

“When my dad dies, how does that work?” He was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. Almost like it was the most normal thing to be asking.

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Does he die here or do you take him to the hospital? I just… sorry if it’s a morbid question.” He suddenly felt a little queasy.

Tina looked at him for a moment, still seeming confused, like this was something he should already know the answer to. She let out a sigh and clasped her hands in front of her. “Your dad didn’t tell you, did he?”

That bubble of anger that was always lurking inside when it came to his dad, was starting to fill up again. He swallowed and tried to push that feeling down. “Tell me what?’

Tina sighed and he could tell that this was a conversation that weighed on her greatly and he wondered if it was always this hard for her. “Your dad doesn’t want to go back to the hospital for any reason.”

“But what if he stops breathing or-” She shook her head slowly and he saw the pain in her eyes.

She glanced down at her plate and spoke just above a whisper. “He wants to die here.”

Dean supposed it made sense, but the thought of it made his stomach do a somersault. “So... you just watch him die?”

She looked back at him, a little shocked by the question, but she quickly recovered. “The Morphine is helping with his pain now and all we can do is try and ease it. But when it’s his time, I can’t do anything more than that.”

“Will it be violent?” Dean hadn’t meant to ask it and he regretted it the instant he saw her reaction.

Tina’s eyes were wide as saucers and she looked horrified by the question. “Violent?” She shook her head. “Of course not.”

He wanted to stop himself from continuing on, but that little boy that had witnessed his mother’s death took control. “Bloody?” She looked at him like the very question sickened her and it sickened him as well.

She quickly shook her head. “It’s not a violent death, Dean.”

He should apologize for asking her this, for making her think about it, but he couldn’t. “Because I can’t watch that.” He looked away.

“Dean, I can’t tell you that there won’t be pain, but it’s not-” His eyes cut to her and she fell silent. They looked at each other for a moment and then she gave him a sad smile and her eyes were filled with understanding. “It’s not a violent death.”

“Good.” Dean took a sip of his coffee. “I won’t watch though, okay?” He looked back at her and saw that she was searching for the right words. “I mean I know he’s gonna die soon and I know I’m gonna be here, but…” Dean took in a deep breath. “I can’t watch both my parents die.” He felt his voice crack on the last word and he hated that.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I… I don’t…”

He felt his hands starting to shake and he quickly put them in his lap. “So I need to know that I don’t have to see that.”

Tina just stared at him, her silence almost deafening. He watched as her mouth opened and shut several times and he knew what he was asking her was too much. There was no real way that she could grant his request. But after another moment, Tina gently placed her hand on his arm and gave him the most reassuring smile she could manage. “I’ll be there. Okay.” He knew this was something that he shouldn’t even be asking for. This was something that he could not be guaranteed. But he needed to hold on to it for just a moment, even if that moment faded away. So Dean just smiled and thanked her.

***

Dean ended up staying at the house. Benny didn’t need help and he actually found himself feeling grateful for that, because for some reason he just couldn’t make himself leave. His dad slept for most of the day. It tied Dean’s stomach in knots and made his palms sweaty. He would glance up the stairs every few minutes or make some unnecessary trips past his open bedroom door, once even sneaking in to check that he was breathing.

Tina tried to distract him. She asked more questions about the places he had traveled to. Asked which places were his favorites and which places he hated. He appreciated the distractions, but after about an hour of questioning, he started to feel like he was under a bright spotlight that made him feel extremely vulnerable. He tried to change the subject to her, asking her about her favorite foods, music, places, but she seemed even more vulnerable than he felt.

They were sitting in the living room, both on the couch, Dean’s whole body turned as far away from the recliner as possible. He popped a potato chip into his mouth, swallowed and glanced around the room. His eyes landed on a shelf just above the row of pictures. There was a stack of board games that were covered in a fine sheen of dust. He smiled, an idea forming, and said, “Do you like games?”

“Like video games?” Dean shook his head and pointed toward the shelf. Tina’s eyes followed the direction he was pointing in. She grinned and looked back at him, a little mischievous look in her eyes. “Not to brag, but I kind of kick ass at Monopoly.”

Dean smirked. “Oh, really?”

“Yep. Carried that game around with me to every town we stayed at and usually played the motel staff.” She crossed her arms, a self-assured look on her face. “Got a reputation as Queen of Monopoly.”

He chuckled. “Queen of Monopoly, huh?” She nodded. He cocked his eyebrow, his eyes challenging her. “Okay, Queen, how about a game?’

“You’re on.” He leapt up from the couch, grateful for a distraction that didn’t involve twenty questions, and pulled the Monopoly game off the shelf, wiping the dust off with the sleeve of his shirt. “By the way, Dean, I get to be the car.”

Dean scoffed. “Hey, it’s my game, I think I should be able to play whatever piece I choose.” The truth was Dean had always preferred the dog, but he liked teasing her. It felt nice. It felt comforting.

Dean set the game down on the coffee table and they both started clearing off a space for the board. “Hey, I had to clean up your father’s puke this morning. I think that entitles me to be whatever game piece I desire.”

He considered her for a second, pretending like he was actually deciding if he should refuse her request when he picked up the car and tossed it to her. “Fair enough.” He grabbed the dog piece and set it down on the board.

As it turned out, they were both pretty good at the game. Tina got Boardwalk and Park Place, but Dean got all the utilities, the railroads, and about nine other properties. The hotels started building and they were laughing and having a great time. It was the first true moment of fun that Dean had had since returning to Lawrence.

They were about to start on hour three when they heard the sound of footsteps. They both looked up to see John slowly easing himself down the stairs. Both Tina and Dean stood up and went to him. John looked like he wanted to refuse their help at first, but he eventually put his arms around both of them and let them lead him down the stairs. He sat down in the recliner and Dean tried not to let that moment bother him.

Dean and Tina stood watching him for a second like they were waiting for him to break. John rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I think you two can stop hovering now.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and went back to the couch. Tina stayed near John, the caretaker mode kicking in and overshadowing the carefree attitude she had before. She said, “Can I get you anything? Water or something to eat?”

He smiled up at her. “Glass of water would be great.” Tina nodded and headed into the kitchen.

Dean sat there, hands in his lap, not sure what to say. His dad sitting in that damn chair was just too unnerving and he hated himself for letting that piece of furniture still affect him. “How are you feeling, Dad?”

He waved the question off like it was irrelevant. “I was getting sick of being in that bed and I heard you guys laughing down here.”

“Sorry, if we woke you,” Tina said as she handed him the glass of water. She watched him take a few sips before joining Dean on the couch.

John shook his head. “Don’t be. It was nice.” John looked over at Dean. “I missed hearing laughter.” Dean gave him a quick smile and then looked away. John glanced at the board game. “Monopoly, huh?” He chuckled and pointed to the board. “I see you still prefer to be the dog, Dean?”

Dean’s ears turned a little red and he glanced at Tina. She crossed her arms and smirked. “Is that so?”

Dean shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “Hey, I might have wanted to be the car.” She playfully smacked his arm. John chuckled.

Tina and Dean finished the game and John watched them, adding commentary here and there. Dean was surprised by how okay the whole thing felt. None of the harsh words or judgment that Dean was accustomed to were there. On the contrary, John seemed happy. Really happy.

They finished the game and Dean whipped together a simple dinner of ham and cheese sandwiches and potato salad. His dad was able to get down three bites of the potato salad and almost the full sandwich. It was the most Dean had seen him eat in a few days.

After dinner was done, Tina made some decaf coffee for Dean and herself and some tea for John. Dean watched his dad and saw some exhaustion seeping into his face and he could tell he was having a hard time sitting at the table. “Dad, why don’t I help you get up to bed?”

John shook his head and nodded toward the back door. “Why don’t we give Tina a break from us men and go outside for a little bit?”

Tina looked over at John and then looked at Dean and she gave him a quick nod before looking back at John. “I really don’t need a break and I think somebody should really be getting their rest.”

Dean saw the determination in his dad’s face and he realized that his dad wasn’t going to give up. “I’m not dead yet. I just want to spend some time with my son.”

Dean could see Tina struggling to find a way to stop his dad and Dean didn’t want to put any more pressure on her. He gently placed a hand on her wrist and smiled at his dad. “It might be nice to get some fresh air.”

John smiled, a look of victory on his face. He got up from his chair and started to make his way toward the backyard, shooing Dean and Tina away when they tried to help him. Tina leaned over to Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean. I can come out and interrupt or-”

“It’s okay. I can handle it.” He gave her as confident a smile as he could muster.

“Well, there is a book I’d like to read.” She still seemed unsure as she looked between him and the back door and he realized how determined she was to keep her word to him.

Dean pulled out his phone. “I’ll shoot you a text if… if I need help bringing him in.”

She stared down at his phone for a minute, before finally relenting. “Okay.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, grabbed her coffee and headed upstairs.

The second she was out of his line of vision, Dean leaned back on the kitchen counter, his shoulders slumping and his throat tightening. His dad’s voice made him startle slightly, “Don’t forget to bring me my tea.”

Dean nodded to himself and pulled himself away from the counter, grabbing his coffee and his dad’s tea. Dean tried to relax with each step he took toward the backyard. He could handle this. He had been spending plenty of time with his dad without a buffer and his dad would probably just drift off to sleep anyway.

The patio light was bright and it illuminated what passed for the backyard. Dean’s heart almost broke when he saw it.  What grass was left in the yard was turning a light shade of brown and the ground below it was cracked and dry. The fence was falling down in spots and the trees were in desperate need of trimming. He looked over at his dad, handing him his tea. John was sitting in an old lounge chair, the pillow a faded yellow with various rips and stains across it. The patio itself was covered in cracks where little weeds poked through.

Dean sat down on another old lounge chair, the same faded shade of yellow, next to his dad and tried to relax. Tried not to focus on the broken yard in front of him.

John looked around the yard, his hands around the mug of tea. “I never should’ve let it get like this.” He felt his dad’s eyes on him. “You should fix it up.” That simple statement made all hope of relaxation disappear.

Dean took a sip of his coffee, the liquid almost too hot on his tongue. “Maybe.”

“I think you could really turn this place into something special.” His dad seemed almost wistful as he spoke and that only heightened his anger.

Dean pursed his lips and glared at the backyard like it was an enemy. “I probably won’t be staying here, Dad.”

“Going back to New Mexico.” His dad let out a sigh and Dean could hear the disappointment in it. “Or somewhere else?”

Dean gritted his teeth and tried not to let it get to him. “I don’t know.”

“Dean, you need to settle down.” His dad looked at him like this was a normal conversation for them. Like calmly discussing his future had been par for the course.

Dean felt his grip on the coffee cup tighten. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

His dad continued on, ignoring Dean’s request. “Hey, you’ve been helping out at Benny’s and you seem to really like that. Maybe you could help him with the menu you said he wanted to expand.”

He let out a shaky breath and tried to remain calm. “Dad, I don’t know if I can stay here.”

“This is your home, Dean.”

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. “This hasn’t been my home for years.”

He could see his dad’s face fall at those words, but he quickly covered it up, pushing through and pretending like everything was okay. “Well, somebody needs to take care of it after I die.”

Dean wanted to leave the conversation at that. He could change the subject to the weather or to any number of things, but he seemed to be having a hard time changing the subject these days. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I think I took care of it long enough.” Dean shook his head and looked up at the sky. “I think it’s time I got a break.”

“You’ve been gone for ten years, Dean. That seems like quite a break to me.” There was a biting tone to his voice that Dean was all too familiar with and he found himself feeling an odd sense of relief at the normalcy of it.

“I had to leave, Dad.” He glared at John. “You know that.”

John blinked a couple of times and then quickly looked away. “You were an adult. No one made you leave.”

Dean felt his whole body tense up and he clenched and unclenched his fists. “You were drunk off your ass every single night. I had to make sure the electricity didn’t get shut off and you looked at me like I was a piece of trash. And then… and then you hit on my girlfriend.”

His dad looked at him, his brows knitted in a look of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Dean rolled his eyes and fought back a bitter laugh. “Anna. You made a pass at her.”

John looked at him for a second, a brief flash of shame crossing his face before he quickly looked away. “I would’ve never done that.”

Dean’s fists clenched tightly and he could feel his nails biting into his skin. He should drop this. It wasn’t worth it. “The hell you wouldn’t!”

John’s face quickly turned to look at him, the anger in his eyes. “Hey, I would never, ever do something like that.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief and crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you’re still denying that. What? Worried that your beloved Mary won’t let you into the gates of Heaven.” Dean knew it was a low blow and he hated talking about his own mother like that, but he couldn’t help it.

John’s mouth was wide and Dean was sure that if he had the strength to do it, he would’ve slapped Dean. Instead, he turned his face away, looked out over the yard, and somehow tamped down on his anger. “Someday you’re going to have to let go of the past.”

Dean stared at his dad’s profile for a moment, trying to decide the best words to say. The fight was still in him and that anger was raw, but so was the pain. Dean unclenched his fists and looked down at his palms, his eyes focusing on the crescent moons his fingernails had left behind. “It’s not that easy, Dad.”

His dad was silent for a moment, before turning his head to look back at Dean. “I know I made mistakes. I know that.”

Dean continued to look down at his hand, his thumb tracing over one of the indents. “Yeah, so you keep saying.”

His dad let out a frustrated sigh and Dean had to fight the urge to throw his coffee cup and storm out. “Dean, you have to understand something. I lost my wife. The love of my life. I was stuck with two young boys to raise and I didn’t know what to do.”

Dean looked up at his dad and felt a sadness well up inside him that threatened to take over. He quickly swallowed it down and willed the anger back. “Stuck? Dad, we were your sons.”

His dad looked down at his tea, his mouth turned down in a frown. “I know that.”

“We lost our mother.  _ Our mother _ . You weren’t the only one who lost someone.” Dean swallowed and blinked away the tears that were threatening to come. “We needed you to be our dad. We needed you to tell us everything was going to be okay.”

His dad spoke just above a whisper and Dean noticed the exhaustion on his face. “I tried.”

“Yeah, for a tiny fraction of the time and then it was up to me.” Dean saw a twinge of guilt in his dad’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I was scared of screwing up.” There was so much honesty in his dad’s statement that Dean almost let the whole thing go.

Instead, Dean scoffed and bitterly spat out, “Well, guess your fears were justified.”

John looked at him, his eyes filled with tears, guilt and shame and Dean had to force himself to keep looking at him. “I’m sorry. I am. But you can’t blame me for everything that has happened to you.”

Dean wanted to fight him on that. Hit him with more anger, but looking at his dad and seeing the frailty there, seeing how tired he was and knowing that it was probably taking all the strength John had left to stay in this conversation, he just couldn’t. “I know. But I just wish I knew why you were so angry at me.”

“What? I was never angry at you, Dean.”

Dean fought the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Are you kidding me? The way you talked to me and… I know you blamed me for mom.”

John tried to sit up taller but collapsed back in the chair and Dean saw the frustration in his eyes. “I didn’t blame you. I blamed myself.” John set down his cup of tea, almost spilling it. His hands were shaking slightly and Dean had to fight the urge to help his dad. “Dean, I was lost. I was just lost and you were so amazing. So strong and caring and I guess I didn’t appreciate that enough.” Dean looked away from his dad, his eyes focusing on the moonlight that was shining on one of the overgrown trees. “But Dean, I was never mad at you and I never blamed you. I was so damn proud of you. I mean you even got a GED after-”

Dean’s head shot up. “How did you know about that!?”

There was a brief look of embarrassment in John’s eyes before he covered it up with a soft smile. “I found the books in your room one night when I was looking for...” John shook his head, but Dean could already guess the ending of that sentence. “Anyway, I found them and I saw when the test was. So I waited outside when you were taking it and I saw how happy you looked. I was so proud of you.”

Dean couldn’t wrap his head around this. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

John shrugged. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

Dean figured he probably knew the answer to this question, but he still had to ask. “Embarrass me?”

“Yeah, I mean your brother was going to Stanford and you just… I just didn’t know if you wanted me to know.”

Dean just looked at him for a few minutes, not sure what to say. He was shocked, sad, angry and just hollow somehow. The truth was he had been a little embarrassed at the time, but that quickly went away and was replaced by a sense of pride. The pride that he hadn’t even acknowledged to himself yet. “I wasn’t embarrassed. I worked hard for that.”

“I know you did, but-”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought it wouldn’t matter to anyone and I guess I was right.”

John tried again to sit taller, failing and looking frustrated at his illness. “Look, I’m sorry that I said embarrassed. I just meant you were never book smart like your brother, is all.”

Dean started blinking rapidly. “I dropped out because you wanted me to. Sure, I didn’t like school, but it wasn’t because I was dumb.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Dean felt all that insecurity he used to feel as a kid come rushing back. “You might as well have.”

“Dean-”

“I was smart. I was. I could’ve done so much more with my life, but I gave it up for you and Sam.” Dean wiped away a tear, angry that he had let it fall.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I-”

“Forget it.” Dean turned away and leaned back in the lounge chair. He felt his dad’s eyes on him, but he refused to look back at him. Refused to let his dad see the pain in his eyes.

“Dean, I didn’t… I don’t know what to say.” Dean chanced a glance at his dad. His head was turned down and he looked like he might cry. That was almost too much for Dean to take.

Dean bottled up that hurt like he always did and sat back in the chair. “Just forget it, okay?” His dad looked at him for a moment and Dean knew he was trying to figure out the right words to say, but eventually, John gave up. Dean focused his eyes on the crumbling yard and tried not to cry.

***

His dad walked around the next day like he was draped in a sheet of sadness. He barely ate and what little he did manage to swallow didn’t stay down for too long. He was overly nice to Dean. Complimenting every little thing he did and trying to apologize without actually saying the words. Dean knew these actions should have brought him comfort, but they only served to put him on edge.

He still felt hurt and angry about the night before, but he found himself falling even deeper into a pit of shame and guilt. His dad was dying, after all, and he felt like he was just piling more dirt on top of that coffin. Jesus, he missed the days when he was just constantly angry with his dad.

Tina tried to give him a pep talk, telling him that this was just par for the course, but it wasn’t helping. He wanted to somehow go back to the night before and just listen to what his dad was saying instead of adding his own crap to the mix.

Dean was sitting out back, looking out over that lawn again and wondering if he really could whip it into shape. It probably wouldn’t take that much, or maybe it would, but he was a hard worker and he could do it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped a bit as he turned to see Bobby standing next to him. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Son.”

Dean gave him a strained smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Sick of me, are we?” Bobby chuckled softly. “I came by to check on John and you.” Bobby glanced out at the yard, crossing his arms, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Dean saw the sorrow there. He saw the loss that Bobby was just starting to realize. “He doesn’t look good.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean hated the sound of his voice. Hated the guilt that permeated every word he uttered. Hated that his whole body felt sick with it. He tried to hide his face from Bobby. Tried to shield anyone else from having to see it, but he should’ve known better. Bobby could always see through his walls.

Bobby cocked his head to the side while he considered him for a moment. “I know that look. That’s the guilty look you got every time you had to ask me for money.”

Dean worried his bottom lip. “It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“He was doing better. He was even up laughing and he ate some dinner last night and then...” Dean trailed off as he looked back over the dilapidated yard.

Bobby gave him that fatherly look that he had always sought out from his own dad. “Dean, it’s not your fault. Your dad got sick and that is not on you.”

Dean pursed his lips and blew out a ragged breath. “But I got angry at him. So angry.”

“Yeah?” Dean nodded and looked down feeling the shame well up inside. “Well, John probably had it coming.”

Dean stared at Bobby for a moment, trying to take those words in. Trying to let them push the guilt aside. “But he’s dying.”

“So?” Bobby shrugged. “Doesn’t make the hurt go away and it doesn’t make up for the way he treated you boys.”

Dean wanted to believe him. Wanted to feel okay for the anger that he still felt, but then his memory flashed back to that morning and seeing his dad’s frail body, probably five pounds thinner than the day Dean arrived, hunched over the toilet emptying out the already sparse contents of his stomach. He shivered. Bobby frowned, looking at him with concern. “What did you get angry about?”

Dean wanted to say nothing. Wanted to tell him to forget it. That it didn’t matter now. “I never told you, but I got my GED.”

Bobby’s eyes grew wide. “When did you do that?”

“Right around the time Sam graduated high school.”

Bobby took a small step back, shock covering his face. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I only ever told Cassie about it.” Dean shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess I didn’t think it would matter.”

“Wouldn’t matter?” Bobby shook his head. “Of course it would matter.”

“My dad told me last night that he knew about it this whole time.” Dean clenched his hands inside his pockets, feeling a bit of that anger and hurt well back up again. “He never told me because he thought I would be embarrassed or something.”

Bobby pursed his lips and shook his head. “Dammit, John.” Bobby gave Dean a warm smile and squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I for one think it is an amazing accomplishment. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You should be proud of that.”

Dean gave him a half-smile but still felt a heavy weight inside. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“And you know what else?” Dean shook his head. “I think John deserved every bit of anger you felt.”

Dean felt his chin start to tremble and felt his eyes slowly welling up with tears. He tried to blink them away but knew it was probably a wasted effort. “But you didn’t see him this morning. He was so...so...he’s slipping away and I...”

Bobby placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to ground him to the moment. “You’re human, Dean.” Dean toed the sidewalk, not wanting to look into Bobby’s eyes. “I know you think that you should somehow save everybody, but that’s not your job. You’re entitled to your feelings.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Even if they hurt him?”

“Even if they hurt him.” Dean looked up at Bobby and Bobby smiled down at him as he pulled him into a hug. Dean held his arms down by his side for a moment, not wanting to give in to the loving embrace at first, but then he wrapped his arms around Bobby and held on, letting all the fatherly love seep in.

***

That night Dean went to bed with the ball of guilt still sitting in his stomach. He had talked to his dad, but not about this. Not about what had happened the night before. He was worried that John didn’t have the energy to hear it. Instead, he sat by his dad’s bed watching old Marx Brothers films and feeling a sharp pain inside when his dad didn’t laugh in all the places he used to.

His dad fell asleep halfway through  _ Duck Soup _ and Dean watched him for several minutes before turning the movie off. He counted every breath his dad took. Counted how long it was before each inhale. Noticed any movement. Noticed the tiny, barely there, whisper of a snore. He looked peaceful despite what was happening to his body. He had never noticed his dad looking peaceful before this and the idea that it was because he was dying filled Dean with dread.

Dean lay in his own bed that night just watching as shadows passed across the wall. He was exhausted, but his mind was keeping him from getting the sleep he so desired. He kept replaying every conversation he had had with his dad since arriving. Replaying every word he uttered and how his tone had often been filled with spite or anger. Deep down he knew that was to be expected, but now he wished he could do some of those conversations over. His dad may not wake up in the morning and these would be Dean’s final memories. Dean supposed it would be better than the memories he had before this.

He finally fell asleep around three thirty that morning. His dreams were restless and filled with a tension that was with him when he woke up just three hours later. His chest was tight with it and his stomach ached.

Dean pulled himself out of bed and threw on his robe, making his way out to face the rest of the house, the rest of the day. He didn’t even bother stopping at his dad’s door to see if he was asleep, breathing, or dead. He made a beeline for the kitchen and hoped that maybe he would have some more time alone.

No such luck. Tina was standing in the kitchen setting up a breakfast tray, eggs, toast, grapefruit, water and his dad’s morning pills. She looked up when she heard him walk in and he saw concern in her eyes as she looked him over. He guessed his face gave away how tired and lost he was and the guilt was probably seeping from his pores. She pasted on a smile and tried to act as casual as possible. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Dean pointed to the tray on the counter. “Is that for my dad?” It was a stupid question that he already knew the answer to, but he needed to say something normal. Something mundane.

Tina pretended not to notice how silly the question was. Instead, she gave him a more genuinely warm smile and nodded. “Yeah. Hopefully, he can keep this one down.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and watched as Tina finished setting up the tray. She turned, tray in hand. “Do you think… You know what, let me take that to him.”

Tina looked down at the tray and then up at Dean. He saw that concern return. “It’s okay. I can do it.”

She took a step toward the doorway and Dean touched her arm. “Please.” She looked down at his hand and he quickly pulled it away. She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with questions and that same concern. He gave her a simple smile and a nod and she handed him the tray. “Thanks.” Dean took a deep breath and headed upstairs.

Dean stopped walking when he was a few inches from his dad’s door. He tried to prepare himself for whatever he was about to see. Maybe his dad would still look hurt and lost or maybe he would greet Dean with anger. Maybe that’s why Tina was so hesitant to give him the tray. Maybe she was trying to protect him from whatever he would see. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and turned the corner.

Dean saw his dad sitting as far up on the bed as his frail body would let him. His eyes were glued to the TV, some morning news program, and he had this soft smile on his face that made Dean hesitate for a moment.

“Hi, Dad.” John blinked and looked over at Dean who raised the tray up a bit and headed to the bed. “Hungry?” His dad nodded silently and Dean set the tray down on his lap. “Do you need help?”

“No. I’m fine.” Dean stood there for a moment, his hands still held out like he was holding the tray in his hands. He watched as John attempted to eat a bite of eggs, his fork spearing a couple of pieces. Dean watched as his dad placed the fork in his mouth and swallowed. Dean let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and pulled a chair up to the side of his dad’s bed and sat down. “There was a box of kittens that this family found in their backyard.” Dean furrowed his brow, trying to follow his dad’s train of thought, when he saw John lift his finger slightly, pointing toward the TV. Dean looked over and saw two young kids holding a box of fluffy kittens, maybe six of them, the kids’ faces aglow with delight.

“I guess somebody just decided to leave them there.” His dad suddenly got a little sad and his voice dropped an octave or two. “Wonder if the mom is still looking for them.”

Dean watched the story on the TV. Watched as the kids pointed to each kitten in the box, telling the reporter the names they had given them. Dean spoke just above a whisper, “Maybe the mom’s the one that left them.”

John turned his face to look at Dean. He smiled when Dean looked over at him. “You know parents, we aren’t supposed to have favorites. We’re supposed to love each one of our children the same.” He gave Dean a look filled with so much warmth and affection that Dean almost thought he was dreaming. “But I’m pretty sure you were your mom’s favorite.” Dean swallowed around the swell of emotions he felt at that, maybe even a twinge of guilt. His dad must have sensed it. John shook his head. “No need to feel bad about that. She loved both of you more than her own life.”

Dean looked away and down at his hands. John continued talking. “She always said that you were special. That you were the one that could get lost in the shuffle. She called you the heart of our family.” Dean felt his heart clench at that and felt the tears building up inside. “And she was right.” Dean glanced back up at his dad and saw only honesty in John’s face. “This family, your brother and I, we never would’ve survived without you.”

Dean swallowed and looked back at the TV. “Yeah, well we didn’t exactly thrive.”

“Look at your brother, Dean. Look at all that he has become.” Dean traced a faint scar on his hand, probably from some cooking accident, a knife that may have slipped in his hands, and he looked up at his dad. The earnest expression and the love there almost took his breath away. “You did that. You did. And you never asked for anything in return.”

Dean gave a tiny shrug, trying to throw off the compliment like he always did. “It was my job.”

“No. It was my job.” John set his tray aside, his hands shaking slightly, and turned as much of his body as possible toward Dean. “I never should’ve allowed you to take on that burden. I let you get lost in the shuffle and I will never forgive myself for that.” Dean had no idea what to say. He sat there just looking at his dad and letting those words wash over him and amazingly enough he believed John.

Dean sat back a little and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

John chuckled softly. “I deserved it.”

“But you’re…” Dean didn’t want to finish that sentence. Didn’t want to hear the words coming out of his mouth while he was looking at his father.

John let out another little chuckle and shook his head. “Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I’m a saint.”

Dean glanced over at his dad’s bedside table, his eyes landing on the various pill bottles. “Are you scared?”

His father was quiet for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as he considered Dean’s question. After a moment he gave a small, sad smile and looked at Dean. John nodded his head. “Yeah.”

Dean looked over at his dad’s dresser, his eyes landing on his parent's wedding photo. “Do you believe in Heaven and all that?”

His father followed Dean’s gaze, his eyes landing on the wedding photo. “I believe that I’ll see your mother again.” He looked back at Dean. “That much I do believe in.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Dean smiled at his dad and helped him finish off his breakfast, making sure he took his pills, and everything seemed better somehow. More peaceful. More okay.

***

The rest of the day was better than the day before. Dean’s guilt had subsided and he felt a sense of peace, calm, and something akin to hope. How he could feel hope at a time like this made no sense to him, but it was there, just above the surface and it was clawing its way out.

His dad managed to eat a little bit of lunch and Dean couldn’t help but think that the suddenly renewed appetite had something to do with their morning talk. That talk still played in his head. The honesty in his dad’s eyes. The depth of emotion as he spoke those words of regret. Maybe he could forgive his dad someday. Hell, maybe Dean could even forgive himself for not being able to stand-up for himself all those years.

That night Bobby and Ellen stopped by for dinner. Dean made them a huge pot roast with all the trimmings and Ellen brought an apple pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Tina had mumbled something about getting out of their hair and letting them have a family meal together, but Dean stopped her and said, “You’re family now.” He smiled at her and the smile she gave him in return was like pure electricity and it caused a warmth to pool in his stomach and a slight blush to creep up on his cheeks.

The dinner was nice, relaxing and loud, but a good loud. The kind of loud where your sides ache from laughter. Where your cheeks are sore from grinning. It was a dinner he hadn’t had in years, maybe even a lifetime. The only thing that was missing was having Sam and Eileen there, but he suspected that they may have had their own dinner like this.  

His dad managed to take three bites of the pot roast, two bites of mashed potatoes and half a slice of pie. His dad looked happy. His dad looked more alive than he had seen him before and wasn’t that just the most ironic thing.

At around nine, Ellen and Bobby headed out, giving their goodbyes to John, and Dean didn’t miss the tears in Ellen’s eyes as she hugged his dad. She gave Dean a warm smile and a hug as she walked away, whispering in his ear, “I’m just a phone call away.” She pulled away and gave him that motherly smile that he had missed.

Tina insisted on cleaning up the kitchen and Dean helped his dad up to bed. He helped him climb under the covers, made sure he took his nighttime pill and went to turn off the light. His dad grabbed his arm and Dean looked at him. “Will you sit with me for a few minutes?”

“Dad, it’s late. You should be getting some sleep.”

There was an urgency in his dad’s eyes that scared him and he tried to ignore it. “I’m sick of sleeping. I just want to spend some more time with my son.”

Dean’s fingers hesitated on the light switch for a moment and then he finally relented, sitting back in the chair. “Do you want to watch some TV or something?”

“No. We’ve done enough of that.” His dad laid his hands down on his lap and turned his full attention to Dean. “I want to hear about you.”

“What do you want to hear about?”

His dad smiled, a smile that lit up his whole face. “Everything.”

Dean cocked his eyebrow. “Everything?”

“Yeah, tell me everything you haven’t told me before.”

Dean shifted in his seat, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Dad, I don’t… you already know most of it.”

“Well, tell me the parts I don’t know.” His dad looked at him, a pleading look in his eyes and Dean could only nod, as he sat back in his chair and started to tell his dad his life story.

Dean told him about every single town he had lived in, every job, every mistake, and every triumph. He told his dad about how he fell in love with Cassie. How their marriage was great at first. He told him about the divorce and the pain that caused. He told him everything. His dad just lay there, listening, maybe interjecting a question or two or a sound of acknowledgment, but mainly just taking it all in. It was the most Dean had ever told his dad, maybe even anyone.

After a while, Dean started asking his dad questions. He asked John to tell him again about the day he met his mom. Asked him to tell Dean all about their wedding in Reno. All about how Mary’s parents got angry when they didn’t get invited. His dad told him about the day Dean was born and how his mother used to tell Dean that angels were watching over him. He told Dean everything, even things that Dean had never heard before, like the fact that his mom really wasn’t the best cook. His dad told him about his own childhood and even some stories about Vietnam, which was something his dad had rarely discussed before. And somewhere along the way, Dean realized that he had been given a gift. He had gotten to know his dad.

At about midnight, Dean saw his dad’s eyes drifting shut and Dean moved to turn off the light, but his dad stopped him once again. “Stay till I fall asleep?” Dean suspected that would only be a minute and he nodded, leaving the light on and watching as his dad drifted off.

***

“Dean.” He heard the soft voice in his ear. The voice he hadn’t heard for years. “Dean, wake up.”

“Mom?” Dean jolted awake and looked around. He was sitting in the chair by his dad’s bed, the bedside lamp still on. He looked around him, trying to find the source of that voice that sounded so familiar. But he knew she wasn’t there. He knew it was just a dream. And then his eyes landed on his dad. His dad was sitting up in bed, his eyes open and Dean couldn’t tell if he was breathing. He licked his lips and spoke. “Dad?”

There was no reply at first and Dean was convinced that his dad was gone. But then he saw his dad blink and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Do you see her, Dean?”

Dean looked toward the end of his dad’s bed but saw nothing. He looked back at his dad and the smile was still there and Dean felt a sudden jolt of fear. “There’s no one there, Dad.”

His dad glanced at Dean, smiling warmly, and then looked straight ahead again. “She’s so beautiful.” His dad took in a shaky breath and then let it out.

“Dad?” His dad didn’t move, his eyes open without blinking, his chest not moving. “Dad?” Dean knew he should call someone. He should yell for Tina, but he was just frozen with fear. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Dad?”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

“Dad? Dad?” Dean repeated the word over and over again, his body frozen in the chair, his hands elevated slightly over the bed like he was about to reach out and save John somehow. His eyes were glued to his dad’s profile, scanning his body looking for any movement, any last sign of life, but there was nothing. John lay motionless, eyes open, and staring straight ahead. He looked so peaceful that it chilled Dean to the bone.  

Dean sat there for another minute, trying to make himself move, trying to get his brain to engage. What was it he was supposed to do? Mouth to mouth? Force a pill down his throat? Call 911? Call someone. He should- “Tina.” His voice came out just above a whisper and he cleared his throat, trying to be a little louder. “Tina.” Still not loud enough. He reached out and took a sip of water before he realized a little too late that it was the water his dad had been drinking. He fought the urge to spit the water back up, instead swallowing it down and letting it coat his throat.

This time when he spoke it was slightly louder, a little more forceful. “Tina.” He waited a moment, his eyes still glued to his dad. He swallowed and forced himself to look away and this time when he opened his mouth he screamed, “Tina!” It was so loud that he was sure the neighbors had heard.

Within seconds Dean heard the sound of footsteps running toward the room and in a flash, Tina was there. She stopped short when she saw his dad lying there. She shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present, and ran to his dad’s side. Dean quickly dropped his hands and it was like everything became clear again. He watched as Tina checked his vitals, as she said words to him he couldn’t understand and then her hands were over his eyelids, bringing them closed. Dean felt the nausea the second they shut and he jumped up from the chair, nearly knocking it over, and ran down the hall.

Dean barely made it to the bathroom in time. He hunched over the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach. The smell of his dad’s final dinner burning in his nostrils. He puked and puked till there was nothing left. He sat back on the floor, one hand touching the side of the toilet and the other on the cool tile. He stared straight ahead, eyes unblinking.

A few minutes later he felt Tina’s hand on his shoulder and she was talking to him again, but her voice was still so far away. She shook him gently and he jumped, pulling away from her. Her face fell and her eyes were clouded in guilt. He didn’t think he could take looking at her for too much longer, so he quickly looked away. “Is he…” Dean couldn’t say the words and he already knew the answer.

She tried to reach out to him again, but quickly pulled her hand away. “Yes.” Her voice was cracking and he was worried that he would look up and see tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” He wanted to break down. He wanted to curl up into a ball on that floor and just let the world swallow him whole. “He looked-”

“Sam.” Yes, distraction. He could do distraction.

“What?”

“I have to call Sam and Ellen and Bobby and how do we… what do we…” God, the body. What was he supposed to do with the body? He looked up at Tina and instantly regretted it. She looked so sad and guilty for some reason and he just wanted to get away from her.

He felt another wave of nausea and he had to shut his eyes tight to try and fight it. “I can help you call people if-”

“No!” He almost felt her shrink away from him and he tried to calm his voice. He looked down at his hands, trying to concentrate on the freckles that dotted his knuckles. “I can do it.”

“Okay. But if you need-” She touched him and he jumped up, bolting out of the room and running toward his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and locked it.

He looked over at the dresser, his phone lay on top and he said a silent word of thanks that he had somehow decided to leave it in here and not in his dad’s room. He walked towards it, his hands shaking the whole way, his knees wobbly and his stomach doing somersaults. He reached a shaking hand out and grabbed his phone. He worried his legs were going to give way, so he quickly sat down.

Dean looked at the phone’s display for a moment. It was three forty-five in the morning. It would be one forty-five where Sam was. He would wake him and Eileen up. This was almost enough to stop Dean from dialing, but he knew he had to tell his brother or he would never forgive himself. Dean pressed the call button and Sam answered on the first ring, almost like he knew.

Dean told him what happened and he heard Sam let out a breath, almost like he was relieved and Dean tried not to feel angry about that. Sam told him he would be on the next flight out and then he asked Dean if he needed anything. Dean quickly said no and said he needed to make other calls, hurrying off the phone.

The calls to Bobby and Ellen went almost the same way, minus the plans to fly out. Both asking what they could do for him and each time it was asked he felt sicker.

When he was done he tossed the phone aside and stared straight ahead. His mind instantly went back. Back to what he had just seen.  _ “She’s so beautiful.” _

Dean jumped up and ran again, ran down the stairs, rushed past the living room and straight to the kitchen. He started opening up cabinets, drawers, looking in every nook and cranny for that old familiar bottle of brown liquid.

He tossed the contents, some boxes falling to the floor, contents spilling out. He pulled out everything, searching, searching and searching.

“Dean.” He heard Tina behind him, her voice hesitant and shaky, maybe even a little fearful. He didn’t turn toward her. “What… what are you doing?”

“He has to have some somewhere.” Dean started pulling out cups, glasses, plates, stacking them in wobbly piles on the counter.

“Some what?” He saw Tina’s hand reaching toward him, trying maybe to stop him, ground him, but she held it back just inches from him.

“Whiskey.” He set down the last plate and slammed the cabinet shut. Tina jumped. “Where the fuck is it!?”

Her voice was shaky, but Tina somehow remained calm as she spoke. “Dean, why don’t I make you some tea and-”

Dean glared at her. “I don’t want any fucking tea!” He saw the fear that he had only just heard and he instantly hated himself.

“I don’t think your dad had any whiskey.” Tina held her hands out in front of her, maybe trying to calm him, maybe trying to shield herself. He hated himself even more.

“He had to. He must have kept an emergency stash.” Dean went to go open another drawer when his hands slipped, knocking two plates down to the ground, broken glass flying everywhere. Dean froze, staring down at the shards of glass.

“I’ll get a broom, don’t touch it.” Tina hurried away and Dean just stared, his hands frozen mid-air. Frozen like they were before.

Within seconds Tina was back, broom and dustpan in hand. She touched Dean’s shoulder, trying to move him so he wouldn’t step on any pieces of glass and he quickly backed away. “It’s okay, Dean. I’ll just-” He felt his lips quivering and felt his throat getting tighter. He didn’t want to cry. He couldn’t cry.

Dean turned and ran out the front door, Tina’s voice calling after him. He ran down to the street, realizing all too late that he didn’t have his shoes or car keys, but he couldn’t stop. He ran and ran and ran, not even sure at first where he was going. Maybe he could run till he was out of town. Run till he was so far away that he could forget all about Lawrence. Forget all about his dad’s lifeless body just staring straight ahead.

Dean turned a corner and stopped when he saw where he was; Benny’s. A bar. A drink. He could do that. He walked up to the door and pulled, nothing. The bar was closed of course. No lights. No people.

He started knocking on the door in the futile hope that someone was there. Hope that he wasn’t alone. And then he started yelling. “Open up!” He started banging and banging on the walls, on the door, on anything and everything, his hands hurting, but he didn’t care.

“Please. Please.” Dean’s knuckles were raw and he was pretty sure they would be bruised in the morning. He went to knock again when he felt a hand on his arm, stopping him. He turned to see Benny standing there, a robe tied tightly around him and a look of confusion and worry across his face. Dean looked back at him with the same confusion, wondering how he got there and why he was in a robe, forgetting that Benny lived next to the bar. Dean took a step back.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Benny looked him over, his eyes pausing on Dean’s bare feet.

Dean tried to stand up straighter, tried to hide his appearance, but his words and voice were shaky when he spoke. “I need a drink.”

“Dean it’s four in the morning. Bar’s closed.”

“Then open it.” Dean crossed his arms in an act of defiance.

Benny let out a breath. “Why don’t we go to my place and I can make you some tea.”  

Dean ran a hand down his face. “Jesus, why does everybody want to make me fucking tea!?”

“I can make you coffee then.” There was something about the statement, the options he was presented, that struck Dean as funny and he started laughing. It was just a soft chuckle at first, but it soon started to grow and grow until it was full-blown laughter. Benny furrowed his brow in confusion. “Dean?”

Dean kept laughing, clutching at his sides when they started hurting. Benny almost looked scared. Just as scared as Tina had looked. Dean let out another chuckle and then shook his head, wiping away the tears that had formed from laughing, and some probably from somewhere else. “My dad died.” The words hit him like a tidal wave and he remembered where he was, how he must look, and he felt his chest tighten and he looked past Benny trying to find some sort of escape route.

Benny’s mouth was slightly open, a look of understanding and that same sadness he had seen before. “I’m sorry.”

Dean gestured behind him toward the bar. “So I need you to open up and get me a drink.”

“Dean, I really just think you should-”

“I need to toast to my father. He’s finally gone. I should celebrate, right?” Benny just stared at him like he had two heads. “So, you’re here, just open the door.”

“I’m not gonna do that.” Benny reached a hand out and put it on Dean’s shoulder. “Why don’t I make us some breakfast and then I can take you back-” Dean shrunk away from Benny.

“Both my parents are dead now.” Benny looked down at the ground for a moment, almost shamefully. It was the same thing people used to do to him after his mom died. He felt sick, alone, and scared. “Does that make me an orphan?” Benny opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then instantly closed it when he realized there was nothing he could say. “I guess not since I’m an adult and all.” Dean looked down at his hands, they were raw from hitting the wall and there were little specks of blood on one of his knuckles. He absently rubbed them.

Benny watched him. “We should go take a look at that.”

“She was there.” Dean kept rubbing his hands. “My mom. She was there. He saw her and I…" Dean felt his legs giving out as he slowly fell down to the ground, his ass hitting the pavement and his back making contact with the wall.

Benny knelt down next to him. “It’s going to be okay.”

Dean looked up at him, scoffing. “How?”

Benny shook his head and sat down next to him on the sidewalk. “I don’t know. But it will.”

Dean looked over at him, a part of him hoping Benny would’ve had a better answer than that, but a part of him grateful that he didn’t. “I don’t think I can handle this.” He swallowed and stared straight ahead, not even sure what he was supposed to do now.

Benny, sat down next to him, leaning up against the wall, and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, brother. We’re all here for you.” Benny gave his shoulder a squeeze and it was like something broke inside of Dean. The walls he was trying to build around his heart cracked and fell and he started sobbing, nearly wailing. Benny just sat next to him, his arm around his shoulders, and let him fall apart.

***

Dean stayed at Benny’s till after sunrise. They sat in relative silence, something Dean was grateful for, and drank coffee, Dean unable to handle anything more than that.

It was a little bit after seven when Dean finally decided it was time to return home. He hadn’t thought to bring his phone when he had run from the house and he was pretty sure Tina was worried and maybe even angry with him. She would have every right to be. He had left her alone with way too much to deal with and he wondered if his dad’s body was still lying there, lifeless.

Benny gave him a lift back to the house and when they pulled up Dean instantly recognized the two vehicles parked on the street. One was Bobby’s old Chevy Chevelle, the doors still looking a little rusty, the other one was Ellen’s red Toyota truck. Dean’s chest tightened and he tried to steel himself for whatever he was about to face.

Dean was staring out the window of Benny’s truck, his hand frozen on the door handle. Benny nodded toward the house. “Want me to go in with you?”

Dean shook his head and gave Benny the most confident smile he could muster. “No. I got it.” Dean opened the door, gave Benny a wave goodbye, and took in a deep breath as he approached the house.

Ellen was the first to greet him with a bear hug and words of concern. She looked him over and he saw her eyes widen slightly when she saw his bruised knuckles and bare feet. Thankfully she didn’t mention it. “I tried calling you.”

Dean looked down, noticing the dirt that covered his feet. He would need a shower soon. “Sorry. I forgot to take my phone with me.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Important thing is that you’re home.” Ellen’s voice cracked when she spoke those last words and he could tell she was fighting back tears. She gave him the most comforting smile that she could and said, “How about I make you some breakfast?”

Dean’s stomach felt queasy at the thought of food. “I don’t think I could eat anything.”

Ellen, always the mother, shook her head and said, “How about just some toast?”

He wanted to refuse. The thought of anything that wasn’t liquid passing his lips made him nauseous, but he knew she wouldn’t give it up, so he simply smiled. “I think I can manage toast.” She gave him a quick smile, touched his face, and then turned to leave.

Dean stood in the doorway for a few more minutes, wondering how long he could get away with standing on the fringes. Thirty seconds was all he was afforded before Bobby placed a giant hand on his shoulder and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “You scared us, kid.”

“Sorry, Bobby.” Dean wanted to pull away from the hug. He wanted to run upstairs, crawl under the covers, and hide away from the world for a while. But instead, he hugged Bobby back, before finally pulling away. “I just had to…” Dean swallowed around the rest of the sentence, worried that if he kept talking, kept taking these hugs in, he would fall apart again.

“I know.” Bobby’s words were filled with an understanding that Dean was grateful for. “Why don’t we get out of this doorway and get you a cup of coffee?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Bobby led Dean toward the kitchen. Ellen was busy putting together a plate of eggs and toast. She gave him a quick look before she set it down, her face letting him know that she wanted him to try to eat more than just the bread. Bobby set down two cups of coffee and Dean tried to take a bite of the breakfast, the eggs felt strange on his tongue, almost like they weren’t real, but he managed to swallow a bite. “Where’s Tina?”

He saw Bobby’s hand freeze briefly as he raised his cup of coffee to his mouth. “She… she’s upstairs. She didn’t want to… she said she needed to wait for you.”

“Wait for me? What does she…” And then it hit him. His dad was still here. His body was still in that bed. Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. “He’s still here?” Bobby nodded his head and took a drink of coffee. Dean didn’t know why he expected any different. Maybe a part of him thought an ambulance would’ve come. Maybe he would’ve been rushed to the hospital. Maybe all of this was just a bad dream.

Dean set down his fork, his eyes looking toward the living room. “Sam called.” Bobby’s words took Dean out of his head for a moment. “Him and Eileen are getting on a flight in an about an hour.”

Dean nodded, but his eyes wandered back toward the living room, landing on the recliner. “She’s alone with him?” The thought of that sent a chill up his spine. “I shouldn’t let her… I should go up there, right?” Dean looked back at Bobby and Ellen. They both had the same parental look of concern on their faces and for a brief moment, Dean wondered how different his life would’ve been if he had actually been their biological son.

Ellen placed a hand on top of Dean’s and squeezed. “You want us to go check?” He wanted to tell her yes. He wanted to ask them to take care of everything. He wanted to pull out a map, point to somewhere, and just go. But he didn’t want to do that to Tina, so he just shook his head and Ellen gave his hand another supportive squeeze.

Dean took another sip of coffee and then decided that it was time to get up from that table. Dean gave Ellen a quick peck on the cheek before heading toward the stairs. Dean froze when he reached the bottom step, his hand hovering above the railing. He didn’t know how he was going to do this and he almost turned to run, but then he thought again of Tina alone with his dad’s body. Alone with everything. Dean climbed the stairs.

He stopped just outside his dad’s door and tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see. His dad’s body had been lying on that bed for hours now. Would it stink? Would it be rigid? Would it be so cold that it was frozen? Would the skin be blue?

When Dean finally turned the corner and looked inside he was surprised by how peaceful his dad looked. His skin was pale and there was a faint smell that he didn’t want to focus on too much, but there was this strange calm feeling to it all. Dean took a few steps closer to the bed, surprised by how easy it was, and looked down at him for a few moments before realizing that Tina wasn’t there.

Dean backed out of the room, his eyes focusing on his dad until he reached the hallway. He checked the bathroom first, but it was empty. He walked toward Sam’s room, it was empty as well. When he got to his room he heard her, soft, quiet sobs that were barely above a whisper. He felt his hands start to shake and nervousness creep in, but he tamped it down and walked into his room.

Tina was sitting on his bed facing the window. Her shoulders were hunched over, her hands on the bed. “Tina?”

Her body stilled for a moment before she sat up a little straighter, quickly wiped her face, and turned to face him. “Hi.” She seemed like she instantly regretted the word, like a  _ hi _ wasn’t appropriate. “Sorry. I-”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Dean moved over to the bed and sat down next to her. “I shouldn’t have run out of here like that.”

Her bottom lip started to quiver and she shook her head. “I promised you, you wouldn’t have to see it.”

Dean placed a hand on top of hers. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You… you’ve been amazing. I could’ve never done any of this without you there.”

He saw a bit of relief wash over her face, but he knew the guilt was still there and he would continue to work on getting her to forgive herself for that. She looked down at his knuckles and noticed the bruising. She looked up at him, her mouth slightly opening and Dean was about to pull away when she said, “I should get something to put on that.”

Dean pulled his hand away. “I’m okay.”

She gently touched his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He was going to protest, but she was gone before he had a chance.

Dean sat on the bed, absently rubbing his knuckles and trying to decide what he was supposed to do next. His dad was still lying there. Was this how it was supposed to be? Did they do this with his mom?

A second later, Tina had returned, an ice pack and a glass of water in one hand and pain meds in the other. “Here, put this on your hand.” He hesitated for a moment, but then decided it was probably better to take it. He nodded and took the pack from her, placing it on his hand. He winced when it touched his skin, like he suddenly realized how painful it should be. She handed him the pain pill and the glass of water.

He looked at it for a moment before popping it into his mouth and swallowing. “Thanks.”

She nodded and sat down next to him. She turned her hand over and ran a finger along a tiny scar just below her ring finger. “The first client I ever had died right around Christmas time.” Her finger stopped moving, almost pressing slightly down on the scar. “I knew I was supposed to be, I don’t know, removed from it somehow. Like it wasn’t supposed to bother me.” She shook her head and looked toward the window. “We had just put up a Christmas tree in his house. He had wanted to celebrate one last time. So I was taking it down when I noticed this ornament, this cheesy handmade thing that was some garish color, but it had his name on it. I was so angry that I crushed it in my hand.” She let out a little chuckle and looked over at him. “It hurt like a bitch, but it felt good to feel something other than that pain inside.”

Dean looked at her for a few moments, his eyes focusing on hers, on the warmth there. He wanted to curl up with that warmth. He wanted to drown in it. He blinked and looked away, his hand tightening on the ice pack. “I don’t know what to do next.”

“I can walk you through it.” Dean looked back at her and she gave him the warmest smile he had ever seen. Before he knew what he was doing, Dean hugged Tina. Hugged her like she could save him from drowning in his grief. Hugged her like she was the most precious thing in his life. Hugged her like it was the only hope he had left.

***

The next few days went by in a whirlwind of activity. Tina did walk him through the next steps, even helping Dean call the funeral director to pick up the body. That was a call that had Dean almost running for the toilet again, but he held it together, keeping his urge to collapse under wraps for the time being.

Bobby picked Sam and Eileen up from the airport and Dean felt a sense of relief when he was able to put his arms around his younger brother. Sam’s eyes were bloodshot and his nose looked raw. Eileen kept a steadying hand on Sam’s elbow and Dean felt a pang of jealousy that Sam had someone to keep him steady.

Sam accompanied Dean to John’s attorney’s office. Chuck Shurley was an unassuming man whose office was an organized mess. Dean knew that his dad wished to be cremated, his ashes buried next to their mom. His dad didn’t want a church service, no lengthy funeral, just a small service at the house. He had left behind a small life insurance policy that he had bought shortly before he had been diagnosed with cancer. The policy was not much, but it was enough to cover all the costs for the cremation, burial and small service. Dean was amazed that he had even thought of this.

His dad had been telling the truth about Vegas, or at least the money part. All of John’s debts, including the house, had been paid off. The only bills due were utilities. No debt collectors would be knocking down the door. Dean wished he could thank his dad. Maybe tell him he was sorry he hadn’t believed him.  

The house was left to Dean, just as he had known it would be. His dad had instructed that Dean decide what would be done with it and that any contents that Sam wanted would be his. Dean was to ensure that any profits from a sale, if Dean chose to sell the house, would be divided evenly between them.

Dean told Sam that if he wanted to he could have the house. Maybe he could move back with Eileen and they could start a family. Sam had grinned to himself at the word family, but he shook his head at the thought of moving into the house. “It’s not my home, Dean.” Sam gave him a reassuring look. “Whatever you want to do with the house is fine by me.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean tried to be relieved by this, but it just felt like the burden was bigger than it had been before. Everything would be up to him again and all that relief he had felt about the debts being paid was instantly replaced with anger and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides as Chuck went over the rest of the information.

***

The house was never empty. Bobby and Ellen took turns cooking or bringing food over. Dean said he could help, but they insisted that they had it. Truth was, he felt relieved that he didn’t have to think about meals. Food was still something that he was having a hard time enjoying and the thought of being tasked with making it was not something his stomach could really handle.

Tina left the house shortly after Sam arrived. She still came by daily and helped with anything that Dean needed with the planning, but she said it was time for her to go. Dean was left with a tiny ache in his chest when he saw her walk out that door with her bag in hand. He tried to brush it off, but he knew that he had grown to really care about her and the idea of not having her down the hall from him was another loss that he didn’t quite know how to deal with.

Benny and Ellen helped prepare food and drinks for the service. They also brought over spare chairs, a long table, and disposable plates and silverware.

Eileen was a great strength during everything. She kept Sam afloat, holding him whenever she sensed he was about to fall, but she also helped Dean. She would crack a joke whenever she felt there was a need for some small relief from the heavy grief that shrouded the house. She even took him out for a round of pool.

Dean had been wanting to drink every day since his dad died and he was pretty sure that if he hadn’t been surrounded by people or busy with preparations, he would have been drowning himself in a liquor store. Somehow he managed to only have a couple of beers when he played pool with Eileen, but they tasted better than any beer ever had and that scared Dean, terrified him enough to prevent him from having a third beer, though the desire for it was still there. It was still gnawing at him and he worried it wouldn’t ever go away.

Dean had been delaying calling Cassie ever since his dad died. She was the first person he wanted to call. He wanted to beg her to come, beg her to just hold him and tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t want her to feel obligated to him. So he waited and waited until the day before his dad’s service.

Cassie cried when he told her and he could tell they weren’t just for him or for his loss, but for his father and he was struck again with how compassionate she was. She told him she would be on the first flight out and he wanted to cry with joy and tell her thank you, but instead, he told her it wasn’t necessary, he could manage. Even though he had no idea how he was supposed to do that.

The day of the service came quicker than Dean was prepared for. The house didn’t seem clean enough. His dad’s room was still as it had been when John had died, pill bottles still on the nightstand. There were going to be about twenty people at the service, more than Dean would have ever dreamed of. He had thought his dad had burned almost all of his bridges, but he guessed that death blinded some people to the deceased’s shortcomings.

Dean was standing in the center of the living room, the furniture pushed closer to the wall and a long table set out in the center, food and drinks covering it and if it weren’t for the black suit he was wearing he could almost convince himself that they were just going to be having a neighborhood get together.

The doorbell rang and Dean checked his watch, whoever it was, was about an hour early. He sighed and looked around trying to see if anyone else could greet the first mourner. No such luck. He took a deep breath, pasted on the strongest and most put together face he could manage, and opened the door and his heart nearly stopped.

“Hi, Dean.” Seeing Cassie standing there was like a salve to a wound he had been ignoring and he felt the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile despite himself.

“Hi, Cassie.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and pulled him into a hug. A hug he never wanted to end.

***

The service was pretty much the opposite of a somber occasion. Sure, there were tears shed and many moments of sadness, but they somehow managed to keep things light. It was just like John wanted.

Cassie stayed by Dean’s side for the most part, only leaving to hang out with Eileen or talk with Bobby. She was the person holding him up against the flood of emotions that were constantly threatening to take over. He had no idea how he was ever going to say goodbye to her.

Tina had made herself scarce for most of the evening. Dean would catch glimpses of her every once in a while. She would either be hiding out in the corner, her eyes cast downward, or she would be busying herself in the kitchen. Dean got the distinct impression that she was actively avoiding him and he briefly wondered if it had anything to do with Cassie being there.

People started making their way for the door just after the sun started setting, each one giving their condolences to Sam and Dean. It was the hardest part of the night. With each word and handshake, Dean felt himself getting shakier and shakier and he worried he would break down in a puddle of tears at any moment.

Bobby, Ellen, and Benny helped to clean up the remnants of the food that was left behind and they shooed him away every time he would try to help. Eileen and Sam retired to bed, Sam giving Dean a hug that nearly brought him to tears.

A little after eight, Cassie and Dean went out to the front porch, cups of coffee in hand. They sat next to each other on the stoop, their knees touching. They were quiet for a few minutes, watching the sky and listening to the crickets all around them.

Cassie took a sip of coffee, her hands holding the cup tightly. “That service was nice. I think your dad would’ve liked it.”

Dean looked at her profile, watched the moonlight reflected in her eyes. “Yeah. I hope so.”

Cassie looked at him, a look of pride on her face. “You were pretty amazing.”

Dean looked down at his hands and shook his head. “I feel like I’m holding on by a tiny little thread that could break at any moment.” It was the most honest thing he had said all day.

Cassie put her hand on his leg and he looked up at her. “You know it’s okay if you do.” She smiled at him and even though it was small, and not as bright as her usual smile, it still lit up every dark corner of his mind.

Dean placed his hand on top of Cassie’s. “God, I miss you.”

Cassie looked at him with something close to sadness. “Dean-”

“I know that I screwed up. I know that. But I still love-”

“Dean, don’t.” Cassie shook her head, pulling her hand away. Dean felt his stomach drop.

“Cassie, I just need you to know that I-”

“I’m seeing someone.” Dean felt his heart stop and he turned his body away from her, looking out at the street. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

He clutched his coffee cup in his hand, the heat seeping through his skin. “You don’t have to be sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Cassie put a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay. You… I should have told you earlier and I didn’t mean to…” Cassie pulled her hand away and sighed, he heard the guilt there and the defeat. He felt like a jerk.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at her. “Cassie, you did nothing wrong, okay. I mean I’m the one who screwed everything up in the first place.”

Cassie knitted her brow and shook her head. “No. There were two people in our marriage and I made mistakes too.” He had a hard time believing that. “I shouldn’t have pulled away from you. I shouldn’t have buried myself in work like I did.” She worried her bottom lip. “I wish I could go back in time and-”

Dean held his hand up, he didn’t think he could bear hearing the rest of that sentence. “Are you happy?”

He saw a little twinkle in her eye and a smile that she quickly tried to cover up. “Yes.”

Dean let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Well, then that’s all that matters.”

“You deserve to be happy too, Dean.” Her hand hovered over his for a moment before she quickly pulled it away.

He let out a soft chuckle, no real humor behind it. “Yeah, I don’t think the relationship thing is for me.”

“Just because it didn’t work out with us doesn’t mean it can’t work out with someone else.” Dean set his coffee cup down and looked out at the street, his eyes pausing when he spotted Tina’s car. He quickly looked away. “You were a good husband, Dean. No matter what, you need to know that.” He didn’t really know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to follow that statement up. He wasn’t even quite sure he believed it. Maybe she was just trying to appease him.

As much as Dean tried to stop himself from asking the question, as much as his brain tried to tell him not to, Dean heard himself say, “So, who is he?”

Dean could tell the question took Cassie by surprise and she took a second to answer. “He’s just a guy I met at work.”

“Reporter?” He really didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think about it. But there was a part of him that needed to know. A part of him that needed to make sure she was okay.

“No.” She looked away and a little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and it just about broke him. “He’s actually in the FBI.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, we met when I was writing a piece about some brothers who have been traversing the country robbing banks.” She shrugged. “And we just clicked.” She glanced at him and she bit her lip. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m a grown man. I can take it.” She cocked her eyebrow and gave him a knowing look. “Okay, so I hate it, but as long as he treats you right.”

She gave him a soft smile. “He does.” She ran a finger over the rim of her coffee cup, that same smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I think you’d actually like him.”

He felt a little queasy at that thought and somehow stopped himself from saying,  _ not in a million years _ . “What’s his name?”

“Victor.”

“Victor the FBI guy.” Dean sighed. “I am glad you’re happy, Cassie. It’s all I want.”

She smiled at him and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. “I want that for you too. I do.” She put her arm around his shoulders, hugging him to her side. “You deserve happiness, Dean Winchester.” He felt the tears falling down his face and he tried to stop them from falling. He tried to stop his heart from breaking even more.

***

Cassie drove off an hour later, waving goodbye and telling Dean she’d call him soon. As he watched her car driving off he felt that old familiar tugging inside his chest, the pain that was with him the moment she took that wedding ring off her finger, and he wondered if that pain would ever heal.

Dean stood on the front porch for a few more minutes before finally wandering back inside. He heard Bobby and Ellen talking about some memory from before he was even born and he steadied himself before he walked into the living room.

Dean hadn’t prepared himself for what he would see when he walked in there and he felt his knees nearly buckle. Bobby was sitting in that old recliner, a drink in his hand and all the old anger Dean had felt came rushing back, his stomach twisting inside.

Ellen was sitting on the couch across from the chair and she glanced up when she heard Dean walk in. “Cassie leave?”

He ignored her question, his eyes fixed on Bobby and he clenched his fists at his side. “Get out of the chair, Bobby.”

Bobby looked up at him, confusion covering his face. “What?”

“The chair. You need to get out of the chair.” His voice was shaky and his knuckles were turning white the tighter he clenched them.

Bobby just stared at him, worry covering every inch of his expression. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Just get out of the fucking chair!” Bobby winced and there was a flash of fear in his eyes.

He saw Ellen slowly standing up. “Dean, honey, calm down.”

Dean took two steps toward Bobby, and clutched his arm, tugging at him. “Get out of it now!”

“Dean, what the hell is the matter with you?” Bobby tried to pull away from Dean, but he was stronger and before he knew it he had hauled Bobby out of the chair. Bobby stumbled backwards, falling down on his ass. He just stared at Dean, dumbfounded.

Ellen rushed to Bobby’s side. “Jesus, Dean.”

Dean wanted to apologize. He wanted to rush over to Bobby and tell him he didn’t mean to. That he was sorry. That he was an asshole. But the anger had taken over and he couldn’t seem to push it aside. He grabbed the armrest on the chair, tugging at it until the cloth ripped. He started pulling out the stuffing, pulling at all the loose fabric and hitting it. His already bruised knuckles instantly hurting upon the contact, but he kept going. Kept attacking it. Kept ripping at it. Ellen and Bobby were trying to talk to him, but he couldn't hear them. He knocked the chair over and was about to take a chunk out of the seat cushion when he felt Benny’s hand on his arm, pulling him away. “Dean.” Dean looked at him, his lips pursed and his face red with anger. Benny put both his hands on his shoulders. “Dean, take a deep breath.”

“I… I…" Dean glanced down at the floor, Bobby and Ellen were sitting there, their backs against the couch, both looking at him with a mixture of fear and worry. “Oh, god. Bobby, are you-”

Bobby put his hand out, stopping him from going further. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I saw you in that chair and…“ Dean glanced back at the chair, it’s fabric ripped in places and he felt sick. “I didn’t mean to. I...” He looked down at his hands, the skin red and irritated.

Bobby stood up and walked toward him. “I know.” Bobby tried to pull him into a hug, but Dean took a step back. He didn’t want Bobby to comfort him. He didn’t deserve that. “Son, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked in Bobby’s face, no fear or anger met his eyes. There was nothing but that understanding and the look of fatherly love that he always saw on Bobby’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Bobby tried to hug him again and this time Dean didn’t pull away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean felt his whole body shake as Bobby hugged him tightly.

***

Ellen made Dean a cup of tea and they all sat down on the couch, Dean trying not to feel too uncomfortable with the attention and care they were giving him. Dean kept expecting to see Bobby express some kind of anger at him, but all he did was talk to him about nothing really. He told him some amusing stories about some customers he had had lately. He mentioned a few offers he had gotten on the place, none of them seeming right at the time.

And slowly, Dean started to relax more. His body didn’t feel as tense and the shaking died down. He drank all his tea, even laughed at some of the stories, and felt a little bit more normal.

It was a little after ten when Benny finally left. Bobby and Ellen followed soon after. Dean gave them all hugs goodbye and thanked them for all their help.

Once they were gone, Dean was struck by how quiet the place seemed. He knew Sam and Eileen were upstairs sleeping, and he was thankful Sam could sleep through just about anything, but Dean still felt alone.

Dean put his cup in the dishwasher, did one final look around to see if there was anything else that needed to be put away, and headed up the stairs.

When Dean got to the top of the stairs he paused. There was a soft light coming from his dad’s room. He felt a chill run up his spine and he instantly had a vision of his dad sitting up in that bed, his eyes frozen open, staring straight ahead and looking at the ghost he saw.

Dean counted to ten, steadied himself, and walked into his dad’s room. He stopped instantly. Tina was standing next to his dad’s bed, one hand holding one of his dad’s pill bottles and the other clutching a trash bag. She wasn’t moving and if Dean hadn’t noticed the small rise and fall of her chest he would’ve thought she was dead.

He swallowed and took a tentative step toward her. “Tina?” She didn’t move and he wondered if maybe she was in some kind of weird sleep, her eyes still open. He took another step closer and reached a hand out. “Tina?” He gently touched her shoulder and it was like she came back to life, came back to the room. She didn’t jump, just blinked and turned her head to look at him.

Dean wanted to cry when he got a good look at her face. Her eyes were so red and a little bit swollen. Her nose looked sore and dry, like she was getting over a severe cold. She looked broken somehow. Not at all the person who helped him get through the previous weeks. He didn’t know if he should hug her or run. He kept his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She stared at him for a moment, her head slightly cocked to the side, and then she blinked again, shook her head and looked down at the hand that was holding the pill bottle. “I was just...” Her shoulders slumped and her hands fell to her sides. She looked up at him, her eyes finally meeting his and he saw a shot of fear cross them and he had to resist the urge to pull her into his arms. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Midnight?” Her eyes started moving back and forth rapidly. “But it was seven before.”

“Tina, why don’t you sit down.” She looked at him, her expression blank, and he nodded, trying to reassure her that it was okay. She nodded back and he led her back a bit till she was sitting on the edge of his dad’s bed. He should’ve been creeped out by it. He should’ve wanted to lead her somewhere else, but all his energy was focused on making sure she was okay.

Dean sat down next to her, placing a hand on top of the hand that was still clutching on to the bag. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

She shook her head and glanced down at his hand on top of hers. He felt himself start to pull it away, but she squeezed it gently and he kept it there. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He rubbed small circles on her back and she leaned a little bit into his side.

“I came in here and I was going to just pick everything up.” Her chin trembled slightly. “But then I just…” She glanced over at Dean and her eyes went wide and she looked ashamed for some reason. “Your dad died. I shouldn’t be-”

“You’re allowed to be upset.” He looked down at the pills and the bag in her hand. He gently took them from her and tossed the bottle into the bag. He set it down to the ground and he felt Tina let out a breath. “You don’t have to clean this up, Tina.”

“But I didn’t want you to have to do it.” She looked at him with apologetic eyes and he squeezed her hand.

“You’re amazing; you know that?” She shrugged. “You don’t have to take care of me. You’ve done enough.” She looked at him for a moment, judging whether his words were true. He gave her a smile and nodded his head.

She took in a deep breath and then let it out. “I miss him.”

“Me too.” It shocked him how true those words felt. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side, her head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m really glad you got to know the dad that I thought was gone.” He continued to hold her until he felt her drift off to sleep. He placed a kiss on her forehead and realized that saying goodbye to her was going to be one of the hardest things he’d have to do.

***

Dean had slept on the couch, leaving Tina to sleep in his bed. He woke up at ten the next morning, his neck sore and his body contorted into the shape of a pretzel. His whole body felt like lead and his eyes were sore from crying tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed.

He stretched and groaned when he felt the tightness in his shoulders. He threw his legs over the side of the couch, rubbed his eyes, and slowly stood up.

Dean made his way to the kitchen, the smell of coffee enticing him. He stopped when he saw Sam standing over the stove, cooking some eggs in a frying pan. Sam looked over at him. “Mornin’.”

Dean shuffled over toward the coffee maker. “Mornin’.” He poured himself a cup and took a sip, wincing when the hot liquid nearly burned his tongue.

“How was the sofa?” Sam flipped over the egg in the frying pan.

Dean cracked his shoulders. “Paradise.”

Sam chuckled. “Tina told me to tell you to thank you.”

Dean leaned back against the corner and looked down at his coffee cup. “She left?”

Sam looked over at him and smiled before turning back to the egg that was nearly overcooked. “Yeah.”

Dean felt a pang of disappointment. “Oh.” He felt Sam staring at him and he was pretty sure his younger brother was about to bring up something Dean didn’t want to talk about, so he quickly changed the subject. “Since when do you cook?”

Sam scoffed, scooping up the egg and putting it on a plate. “I can cook.”

Dean took another sip of coffee. “You did remember that the shell doesn’t get cooked, right?” He smirked.

Sam glared at him and held the plate out in front of him. “Shells add spice.” Dean chuckled and glanced down at the plate. They actually looked pretty good and the smell made his stomach growl. “Here.” Sam handed the plate to Dean.

Dean took the plate and glanced down. “Are you sure?”

“I can just make another one.”

Dean’s stomach growled again and he relented. “Thanks.” Dean sat down at the dining room table and took a bite. They tasted even better than they smelled and it was the first time since his dad died that he actually wanted to finish what he was eating. “Where’s Eileen?”

Sam cracked another egg into the hot pan. “She went for a walk.” Dean took another bite of the egg and Sam pointed the spatula at him. “They’re good, aren’t they.”

Dean shrugged. “They’re okay.” Sam shook his head.

Sam finished cooking his egg and sat down across from Dean. He took several bites of his breakfast before wiping his mouth and nodding toward the living room, his eyes landing on the chair, battered from the night before. “So, want to talk about that?”

Dean glanced over toward the chair and quickly looked away, popping a piece of egg into his mouth. “Nothing to talk about.”

“I hate that chair.” Dean saw the anger on Sam’s face.

“I saw Bobby sitting in it last night and I just lost it.” Dean shook his head, feeling a little bit of shame well up inside.

“I understand that.” It shocked Dean. He had no idea that his brother shared the same hatred. It was oddly comforting. “I would’ve destroyed the whole thing.” Sam popped a piece of egg into his mouth and looked away from the chair. Dean smiled a little. “So did Cassie leave?” Dean was taken aback by the swift subject change, but he was almost relieved. Almost.

Dean wiped his mouth. “Yeah. She was flying back this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugged, trying not to fall back into the pain he felt when he saw her drive away. “What ya gonna do?”

“Dean, if you still-”

“She’s seeing someone.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth and he felt his appetite wane.

“Oh.” Sam looked almost as sad as Dean felt. “That sucks.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, something like that.” Sam’s look of sadness was slowly turning to pity and Dean needed to change the subject. “So, how is Seattle?”

“Rainy. Great.” Sam smiled and Dean saw how content his brother truly was. “I, uh, I have something to tell you.”

Dean felt that old nervous feeling creep up. The same one that always came about when he heard those words. “Shoot.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, his hands a little shaky, and that only made Dean’s nerves worse. “We’re… I mean Eileen is…” Sam wiped his hands on his jeans. “We’re having a baby.”

Dean’s mouth opened slightly. It wasn’t what he expected at all. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Sam smiled and looked at Dean expectantly.

“How far along is she?”

“Four months, almost five.” Sam started toying with the corner of the napkin in his lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just... with everything going on and-”

“It’s okay, Sam.” Dean leaned forward and gave Sam a huge smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Are you kidding me? I get to be an uncle.” Dean beamed and popped the last piece of egg into his mouth. “I’m gonna be the best damn uncle in the world.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, you will.” They finished their breakfast, talking about potential baby names. Eileen’s morning sickness and moods. How Sam’s practice was doing and Dean felt hopeful. Really hopeful.

***

Sam and Dean laid their father’s ashes to rest several days later. Their dad hadn’t wanted a funeral. Didn’t want a military burial. No big show. Just simply buried next to the love of his life. Sam and Dean were the only ones he wanted there and they respected his wishes.

They were quiet as they watched the urn go into the ground, the dirt dropping on top of it. They stood there in silence for several minutes, both of them occasionally glancing at their mother’s headstone. They had both brought flowers for her, laying them on either side of the grave.

Once the final bit of dirt was piled on top, Sam broke the silence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Dean blinked and looked away from the grave. “What?”

“I should have been here to help with Dad.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Sam looked over at him. “Dean-”

“You said your goodbyes.” Dean shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Sam shook his head and sighed. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Discount yourself like that.” Dean quickly looked away, his eyes pausing on some roses at a nearby grave, their petals nearly dry. “I shouldn’t have left you to deal with that on your own.”

Dean closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Sam, it’s fine.”

“Dean, you can be mad at me, okay?” Dean turned to look at him. Sam’s arms were tightly crossed and he had a look of frustration on his face. “I can take it.”

“I’m not mad, Sam. I understand. I didn’t want to come back here. But it was my job and-”

“That. That’s what I’m talking about.” Sam gestured toward him. “It isn’t your job. You don’t have to be my father anymore.” Dean felt his stomach clench and his chest tighten. “I just need you to be my brother and I need to be yours.”

“But you said your goodbyes and-”

“No, I didn’t.” Dean’s mouth fell open and he just stared at Sam. “I mean, I did forgive him. I did. But not when I was here. No. I was angry. So damn angry.” Sam shook his head, glancing toward their father’s grave. “Eileen thought I should come see him after he was diagnosed. I refused for a few months and then she… she’s persistent.” Sam smiled fondly. “So we came out here. Snapped some pleasant photos. But I wouldn’t listen to him.” Sam pursed his lips and Dean could tell he was fighting back tears. “He kept trying to tell me he was sorry. That we needed to talk, but I refused.” Sam shook his head and looked down at the ground. “I never should’ve done that. I should’ve listened to him.”

“Sam, you had every right to be pissed. He was a shitty father.” Sam looked up at Dean. “He was.”

“Did you forgive him?” The question took Dean by surprise and he wasn’t sure how to answer it.

Dean crossed his arms, still trying to figure what the correct response to that was. Instead, he changed the subject. “Did he tell you that he saw mom?”

Sam looked like he was going to call him on it, but instead, he just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you believe him?”

“That he saw mom?” Dean nodded. “No. Do you?”

Dean glanced over at his mother’s headstone. “Yeah.” Dean looked back at Sam, whose mouth was slightly open, a shocked look on his face. “I mean, I want to believe him.” He wanted to tell Sam about the night their dad died. About how he heard their mother’s voice, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

“Yeah, it’d be a nice thing to believe in.” Sam took a step toward their mother’s grave.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. “Hey, Bobby.” Sam looked back over at Dean. “Um… sure, Sam and I can come over.” Dean shrugged at Sam’s questioning look. “We’ll be over soon.” Dean hung up and looked at the phone for a second before placing it back in his pocket.

“What did Bobby want?”

“He wants us to come to his place right away.” Dean tried to hide his worry, but he knew it was written all over his face. Sam looked worried too. “We better go.”

“Yeah.” They headed toward Dean’s car, both quiet and filled with fear.

***

Bobby was standing in the driveway waiting for them, a nervous smile playing on his lips. That fear that Dean had been feeling was instantly turned up and he exchanged a worried glance with Sam as they exited the car.

Dean crossed his arms, trying to look as casual as possible. “So, what’s the big emergency?”

Bobby simply nodded his head and turned away from them. “Follow me.” Dean and Sam regarded each other for a moment before following Bobby. After about ten feet Dean noticed the box of matches and lighter fluid in Bobby’s hands. His chest tightened.

Bobby led them out behind the house to the empty field, nothing around but an old shed and some tree stumps. They were about twenty feet from the house when Dean saw it; the chair. It was sitting on a patch of dirt surrounded by a circle of rocks and old bricks. Dean stopped walking and he heard Sam’s breath catch in his throat.

Bobby stopped in front of the chair and looked around him, realizing both Sam and Dean weren’t there. He turned around and saw them standing there, both frozen in place and staring at the chair. “Come on, boys.”

Sam and Dean stood motionless for a moment, both unsure of what to do. Dean hated that chair. Hell, he might even call it evil. But seeing it in front of him now, even with the rips and tears that he put on it, it almost felt all too real. Sam cleared his throat. “Isn’t it dangerous to burn that?”

Bobby just pointed toward a chair another ten feet away. A fire extinguisher was sitting on top of it. Dean shoved his hands in his jeans and looked beyond the chair, his eyes not wanting to focus on it. “But isn’t it illegal?”

Bobby just smiled, like they were about to have a normal bonfire, and walked over to them. He handed the lighter fluid to Sam and the box of matches to Dean. “It’ll be okay.” Dean looked down at the matches in his hands. His fingers clutching the wooden box like he feared dropping them would cause an uncontrollable fire to consume everything around them. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean just stared at the matches, his eyes reading the word Diamond over and over again. The blue and red logo burning into his retinas. “Dean?” He shook his head and looked up at Sam. He was staring at Dean with a question in his eyes, that little boy returning. He remembered how angry Sam had seemed the day before when he was looking at the chair. He remembered finding his dad passed out in it night after night. He remembered the way it always smelled of cheap whiskey and sweat. He glanced at the chair again before looking back at Sam and giving him a reassuring nod. Sam nodded back and they both walked closer to the chair.

When they got a couple of feet from it, Dean glanced back at Bobby, still unsure about all of this.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Dean needed to hear that last word of assurance that what he was about to do was okay. That he wasn’t about to burn down the whole damn place.

Bobby just smiled, placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and said, “I promise.”

Dean nodded and looked over at Sam. He was standing there, his eyes flicking between the lighter fluid and matches. “Sam?” Sam looked up at him, his eyes wide as saucers. “I can do it if you need me to?”

Sam looked back down at the lighter fluid and then up at Dean. He could tell that Sam wanted to say yes. Wanted to hand him that lighter fluid and let Dean take over, but instead, he shook his head, opened the bottle up and stood up tall. “We can both do it.”

Dean nodded and watched as Sam tossed some of the fluid onto the chair. He then passed it to Dean and Dean looked down at the bottle and back at the chair again. The memories of all that pain and anger flooding back. The loss. The abandonment. The ruined childhood. Dean tossed more lighter fluid on the chair until he was sure it had just the right amount.

Dean took out two matches, one for him and one for Sam. He handed Sam his match and they both counted to three before lighting them. They tossed them on the chair and it instantly went up into flames, some as high as some of the trees.

Dean and Sam took several steps back but kept their eyes on the fire. They watched it consume the fabric, consume every leftover drop of whiskey that may have spilled on it, every broken promise. The flames licked it away, burned it, turning it all to a smoldering pile of memory.

***

Dean and Sam helped Bobby put out the fire when they were sure most of the chair had been destroyed. They cleaned up the mess it created and Dean felt lighter than he had in years. It was amazing the power an object could hold over you.

Bobby invited them in for some coffee and sandwiches. They sat around talking about everything and nothing. Sam gushed about becoming a father and Bobby blushed when Sam congratulated him on becoming a grandfather.

They left Bobby’s as the sun was setting, both thanking him for everything. Dean could tell Bobby wanted to ask him what he was going to do with the house. Ask him if he was going to stay a while. But Bobby thought better of it and just gave them both a big hug.

As they were driving back, classic rock playing and Dean’s hands tapping in time on the steering wheel, he felt a sense of calm. A sense of peace. He looked over at Sam, a smile playing on his lips, and Dean wondered if he felt the same way.

The radio started playing  _ Long As I Can See the Light _ and Dean almost had to stop the car. He hadn’t heard the song since his dad had sung it to him again and his mind could almost hear his dad’s rough voice singing the words. Dean’s fingers trembled on the steering wheel and he almost reached his hand out to turn it off, but instead he found himself turning it up.

As he started to hum along to the words, his mind started to wander back to a time way before this. Back to when the Impala was a messed up heap, a machine that had taken his mother from him.

_ Dean stood in the middle of Bobby’s garage, the busted up Impala sitting in one of the bays, its headlight hanging loose, every inch of glass in the driver’s side window shattered. He shuddered when he saw it and he tried to quickly turn away, but his dad knelt in front of him, holding on to his arms. “It’s okay, Son. We’re going to make her beautiful again.” He wanted to run. Run from that shattered car that his mom died in. Run from the memory of her bloodied face and lifeless eyes staring at him. But his dad smiled at him and it was the first genuine smile he had seen since the one his mom gave him moments before that truck had plowed into the side of the car, and he suddenly felt like maybe everything would be okay again. _

_ John took his hand, leading him toward the bay. “You know I may have bought this car, but your mom was the one who really fell in love with it. She called it her Baby.” John smiled and let out a soft laugh. “She loved this car. She would want to see it beautiful again.” Dean was still unsure. Still hesitant about touching the thing his mother died in, but with each tool that was passed to him, and each story that was shared, Dean felt the love for it return. _

Dean blinked, bringing his mind back to the present day. He glanced down at the steering wheel, the last notes of the song playing, and remembered how they rebuilt her. Remembered the feeling of restoring a piece of his mother. A piece of his childhood. A piece of the innocence that he had once had. He smiled and hummed along to the final notes of the song.

When they got to the house, Dean looked at it again. The peeling paint, the shutters that needed to be fixed, the lawn that could use some reseeding, and he knew. He just knew. It was time to turn something ugly into something beautiful again.


	7. Chapter 7

Epilogue

It had been six months since Dean’s father had died. Six months filled with so many ups and downs and moments when he nearly fell down a permanent black hole that Dean had lost count. Sam returned home to Seattle about a week after their father was buried and that started a two-week spiral where Dean found himself at the bottom of a bottle more nights than not.

It took Bobby telling him he was breaking his heart, Benny saying he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep carrying him home at night, and Ellen crying over him to start to get him off the bottle. But the real change occurred the night he looked into the mirror and saw his father looking back at him. Dean put the booze away after that night and miraculously hadn’t touched a drop since.

                 

But the anger that the booze was covering up had not gone away and it increased in intensity when he was sober. He would snap at anyone near him, and when there was no one around he would take the anger out on the house, taking a hammer to walls, throwing plates on the back patio until almost all were broken into millions of tiny shards of glass, overturning coffee tables and bookshelves until the house looked even worse than it had before.

One night Dean ended up in the emergency room after tossing a book through a window, a shard of glass ricocheting off the wall and landing in his palm. He needed five stitches from that. When he had returned home he really saw the mess the house was in. Everything torn to shreds and his eyes had landed on a picture of his mom and Sam and he felt guilt and shame well up inside.

He spent the next two days locked away in his room, covers pulled tightly over him, empty takeout containers littering the floor. At the end of day two his own stench was even starting to overpower him, so he forced himself from the bed and took a shower. He stood under the scalding hot water, letting it wash away all the grime and dirt. His fingers traced the new scar on his palm and he started to cry. His hands leaning up against the wall for support and the water sloughing over his back as the tears fell.

The crying turned into near wailing and he was sure the next house could hear him. He stood under the water crying until the water was so cold his teeth were chattering. But he didn’t stop crying. Not until his eyes were almost welded shut from the tears.

When he had finally stopped, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and he was shocked by what he saw. His eyes were puffy and red, dark lines under them, and his face looked almost gaunt like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks. His skin was pale, almost sickly looking.

He glanced to the side of the mirror, his eyes landing on some peeling old wallpaper, the walls yellow in color, and something woke up inside of him. A memory of what he was going to do. What he should do. The next day Dean decided to set out a plan to fix the house up. He still thought he would probably get rid of it afterward, but he wanted to make it beautiful again. Wanted to somehow repair all the damage that had been done.

He picked up as many shifts at Benny’s as he could, putting the majority of his earnings into the house. Dean bought buckets of paint, used, but still nice, cabinets for the kitchen, siding, and carpet.

He spent the next two months putting as much sweat equity into that house as he could. He would go to bed each night covered in bruises, some cuts, his muscles aching with fatigue, but he was starting to feel better. Starting to feel a sense of pride.

He was in the process of installing the cabinets when he got the call from Sam. Eileen had gone into labor the night before, two months before her due date. Dean left the cabinets behind and caught the next flight out to Seattle.

Sam and Eileen had a baby girl they named Mary. She was hooked up to breathing tubes. Dean flew out to Seattle, cooking meals and sitting next to his brother and wife as they prayed for the health of their baby girl.

They were able to take her home a week later. It was almost a miracle. Almost like an angel had been watching over them. Dean stayed for another week, helping around the house and doting on his young niece. She was the most beautiful child he had ever seen and she brought a peace and calm to the family that they hadn’t had in years.

When Dean returned to Lawrence he looked around the house at the repairs he had done and the ones that were still left to complete. The paint needed to be done. Some of the cabinets still needed to be hung. And the yard, that backyard that his dad wanted him to fix up, needed some work. So Dean got back to it, working tirelessly again, and he didn’t stop for three months.

Benny, Bobby, and Ellen would lend a hand, bringing along friends and co-workers to help as well. Bobby had finally sold his place to Maya, the daughter of his old pal Rufus. Bobby seemed more relaxed, rested and even a little more energetic. He moved closer to the city, not quite a condo, but a little townhouse.

When spring finally came around and the weather started to turn, they began working on the backyard. Trees were trimmed, some even needing to go down to the stump. Dirt was dug up, seeds were planted, and plans for the patio were put into place. They would lay down new concrete and Dean decided to buy some cheap, used patio furniture that looked like new.

But he still thought he would be leaving, despite everyone else calling it his house and begging him to stay. Now, Lawrence, he knew he would be staying there, but the house still felt like too much for him. Too many heartbreaking memories and broken promises.

Dean was taking a break one day when Tina stopped by. He hadn’t seen her much at all since his dad’s service. She would occasionally stop by Benny’s, but she had been keeping her distance and Dean tried not to take it too personally, but there was a part of him that felt like she was avoiding him.

His mouth cracked into a wide grin when he saw her standing on the doorstep and his pulse may have sped up just a tiny bit. She looked rested, relaxed, happy and absolutely beautiful. She was wearing jeans, a little white short-sleeve shirt and her hair was cut in layers that framed her face perfectly. “Hey, Dean.” She grinned brightly at him and he felt a little flutter in his stomach.

“Hi, Tina.” He grinned and stepped aside, motioning her inside.

Tina walked around the house, a look of wonder on her face. She complimented him on the repairs so far, telling him over and over again that his dad would be so proud of him. He felt his throat tighten each time she would tell him that.

They sat down at the new dining room table that Dean had bought. It may have been a silly purchase for someone who was still set on selling the house, but he justified it by telling himself that it would make the place more appealing to potential buyers. But deep down inside Dean had a feeling that he was lying to himself.

Dean poured them two glasses of lemonade, set down a plate of peanut butter cookies he had baked the day before, and they started talking like no time had passed. Talking like they had before his dad had died. Tina told him that she was taking a break from homecare, a break that might become permanent. Dean saw the sadness in her eyes as she told him that and he instinctively reached out to her, squeezing her hand gently.

Tina slowly pulled her hand away and took a sip of her lemonade before asking, “Are you planning on staying in Lawrence?” She looked at him with a hopeful expression and he felt that silly flutter again.

Dean chuckled softly, all of it still seeming a little too surreal to him. “Yeah.” He saw Tina’s smile grow wider. Dean absently picked at a cookie. “Benny and I are actually talking about opening a restaurant together. Kind of an offshoot of the bar.”

Dean didn’t think Tina’s grin could possibly get any wider, but she proved him wrong. It was so bright and her eyes were filled with pride. It made his pulse quicken a bit. “That’s so great, Dean. I’m so proud of you.” He looked down at the table a bashful smile on his face. “And the house?” She glanced around, before turning her attention back to him.

“I’ll probably sell it.” She looked at him with a little bit of sadness and he quickly glanced away, shrugging. “I can probably make a little bit of a profit. Maybe invest it in the restaurant.” She nodded and tried to look encouraging, but he could see the disappointment there and he wanted to change the subject quickly. “Sam and Eileen had a baby girl.”

Her eyes grew wide and she let out a little clap. “You got pictures?” He cocked his eyebrow and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Tina laughed. “What am I saying? You probably have hundreds.”

She playfully nudged him and he smirked while opening clicking on the pictures. “More like thousands.” She laughed and leaned in closer and looked at the screen while he scrolled through the pictures. Dean took in a deep breath, the scent of her shampoo, vanilla with a hint of something that smelled close to rain, hit him and he had to bite back a moan.

“She’s really beautiful.”

Dean smiled down at the picture of Mary. “She’s an angel.”

Tina looked at the picture for another minute before leaning back. She glanced down at her lap, her smile fading. “I need to apologize to you, Dean.” Tina looked up at him, regret in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have disappeared after… “ She glanced around the house, her eyes blinking back tears. She looked back at him, a soft smile on her lips. “It’s just… You’re not supposed to get so attached to your patients, let alone their whole family.”

He smiled at her. “Yeah, I hear that can be an occupational hazard?”

She chuckled softly. “Something like that.”

Dean reached his hand out and laid it on top of Tina’s. This time she didn’t pull away. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” They looked at each other for several minutes, before Tina blinked, slowly pulled her hand away and looked down at her watch. She frowned. “I gotta go.” She took one last drink, setting the glass aside and wiping her hands off.

“Hot date?” The words felt like acid on his tongue and Dean hoped his voice sounded a lot more nonchalant than he felt inside. The truth was he dreaded the answer to that question.

Tina laughed. “Not even close.” Dean felt himself relax a bit and he couldn’t help the grin that spread out on his face. “Just meeting an old nursing buddy for dinner.”

“That’s great!” He saw Tina smirk a little and he felt the blush creeping up his neck. “I mean, it’s good that you have friends.” Tina chuckled softly and he felt the blush deepening. “I mean, not that you wouldn't have friends.” He could kick himself.

Tina chuckled, but thankfully changed the subject. “You’ll have to let me know when the place is completed. I’d love to see the finished product.”

“Definitely.” He saw Tina hesitate for a moment, like she was waiting for him to ask her another question. She finally stood up, Dean following, and headed for the door.

“Thanks for the drink and the cookies.” She waved at him and opened the door.

“Wait.” Dean heard the word come out and he was surprised he was able to summon it. Tina stopped and turned toward him. Now if he could only form the other words. He stared at her for a moment, fear rushing through him.

Tina gave him a playful smile. “Was there something you were going to say?”

“Um… yeah.” Dean shook his head and summoned some courage. He could do this. He’d done this before. “I was just wondering if...” His nerves were starting to get the best of him, but he wanted to make sure he asked this. Dean rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his feet. He felt like a teenager. “Would you maybe want to get dinner with me sometime?”

He swallowed and chanced a glance back up at her. She was grinning brightly at him, her eyes even sparkling. “I’d love to.”

Dean felt himself smiling victoriously. “Okay. Great. I’ll call you.” He saw a brief look of disappointment on her face before she covered it up with another smile and she turned to leave again. He let out a breath and felt frustration at his nervousness. “Wait.”

She chuckled as she stopped and turned to look at him. “I’m starting to think you’re trying to get me to stay.”

Yeah, maybe he was. “Sorry. I just… How about tomorrow?” She raised her eyebrow questioningly. “Dinner. Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

She looked almost giddy for a brief moment and that caused a warmth to blossom inside. “It’s a date.” She winked and his legs felt a little wobbly. He watched as she walked out the door and he did a little mental fist bump.

***

A few days later Dean found himself out on the back patio, the sun rising and the crisp morning air filling with the hints of spring. Dean stood there, a cup of coffee in hand, and he looked out over the yard before him. The place finally coming together. The beauty his mom once saw back here slowly coming back to life. He felt his eyes drifting off to a corner in the back where his mom used to have a garden. There was a pile of dirt where he had started to turn the soil in preparation for what should be planted there. He took in a deep breath and he could almost smell the flowers that used to grow there.

_His mother was kneeling down, her hands in the dirt. She smiled when she saw eight-year-old Dean walk outside and she waved him over. He sat down beside her, his shorts immediately getting dirty, but his mom didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she took one of his hands and told him to put it in the dirt. It felt warm, squishy and the smell was so earthy and almost clean, which shocked him._

_His mom held up a packet of seeds. “See these?” Dean nodded. “They’re called Lily-of-the-Valley.” She pulled the packet back and looked at it again. “People think they look too fragile to survive, but in reality they are tough-as-nails.” She smiled and there was a hint of sadness there. “They can withstand almost anything and come back year after year.” She opened up the packet. “Maybe they’ll even outlast all of us.” She smiled and winked at him as she began to plant the seeds._

Dean swallowed, fighting back the tears that were threatening to come. The flowers that had once been planted to weather all storms had not been strong enough to weather his father. They hadn’t been strong enough to weather the storm that grief had brought upon the house. But maybe they could weather it now. Maybe that beauty could come back.

Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out the small packet of seeds, and he smiled. This was the final touch the house needed. The final seed to make it beautiful again. Beautiful for years to come. Beauty that Sam’s daughter could enjoy. Beauty that maybe even his own kids could enjoy.

Dean nodded and started walking toward the back of the yard, preparing to plant the seeds of life for the future. The seeds of life that would not die this time. The seeds of life that would turn his house beautiful again.

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was quite the emotional journey to write. I hope I was able to leave you on a hopeful note. Thank you for reading. <3


End file.
